Whispers of Winds
by shenayeelizabeth
Summary: The Old Gods have called the Bear, the Rose, the Sun and the Sword, they must work together to place the rightful heir on the throne. They must save Westeros from itself for the Old Gods have decided.
1. I

**Woo. Hello, thank you for checking out this story, it actually means a lot that you would click on this.**

 **This is very AU, most likely these characters never would have crossed paths so I'm just warning you now.**

 **Also I'm warning you if this seems OOC, don't get angry as this is an AU - but hey, Dacey is alive!**

 **I hope you enjoy and I hope you keep reading this, I would really appreciate it.**

 **Also posting it in the asoiaf category makes me nervous.**

* * *

 **I**

 **DACEY**

 **299 AC**

 **SURVIVAL** had become a shock, she had crawled out from underneath the pile of bodies gasping for air. Her entire body had blossomed with pain, it spread from her abdomen and through her entire body. It was a struggle of pain as she had moved away from the pile of bodies, pushing herself further and further away. She had turned her head, looking back at those who had been her comrades – the men and women she had fought with, died with. Sickness had immediately escaped her mouth, it had covered her front but she had no time to be concerned about that.

"Oh dear, oh dear, what have we here?" She heard someone say distantly and Dacey looked up, through blurry eyes.

"H-help," she struggled to say.

"Help, help," something echoed.

"Yes, we should. Should we not? To allow such a young woman to die, it would be a shame," the voice clicked their tongue. "It is a decision, it will change. Change is what we need." Dacey wanted them to stop talking and to just help her! "A path… a path once forgotten, not yet explored. Yes. Yes. This is good, very good, very, very good."

* * *

When she awoke, she became confused, unsure of where she rested. Something dangled over the top of her head and she went to reach up to touch it, only to find her arms confined. Her mouth pulled into a grimace and she tugged, attempting to free herself but her arms were strapped tight to the bed she was lying upon. She grimaced, attempting to tug herself free but it was impossible. She gave up, throwing her head back and having no choice but to stare at the object that continued to dangle above her, turning ever so slightly. What the hell was it?

"You have awoken," she heard a voice and she turned her head, "Good, good."

An old woman of haggard appearance stood, carrying many objects in her hand. Her face was covered in deep set wrinkles that seemed to make her pale skin sag downwards. Her hair was a mess on top of her head, brown with grey strands and seemed to be in some kind of nest on top of her head. She wore dull, brown rags that covered her entire body and Dacey stared at the woman who turned to drop the objects in her hand onto a table.

"Who are you?" Dacey demanded, her voice weak.

"Hm," the woman paused, "Who am I?"

"Do not speak in riddles!" Dacey's voice rose, "Who are you!?"

"Maggy," the woman said. "Maggy the Frog they call me, nasty name. And who are you?" Dacey opened her mouth to answer, "Lady Dacey of House Mormont. A lady but not a lady, a soldier loyal to her king."

"H-how do you know that?" Dacey's eyes widened as she stared at the woman.

"It is not hard to know things," the woman said. "If one opened their mind they would know."

"Know what?"

" _Things!_ " The woman emphasised, her voice growing into a loud shriek that had Dacey wincing. "Things! Things! Things!" She shrieked, clenching her fists and jumping up and down like she was a child.

"Things," Dacey whispered under her breath, staring at the woman in fright.

"Yes," Maggy the Frog nodded her head, eyes widening in delight and she opened her mouth to reveal nothing. She had no _teeth!_ Was she dead? "I saved you, found you. Along with Bellamy," she said the name with some affection. "We brought you here, we have helped to heal you."

"Thank you," Dacey whispered.

"You are most welcome!" She chirped, grinning but with no teeth it was more sinister than welcoming. "Now, goodness, perhaps we should get you untied." The woman proceeded to release Dacey from her bonds.

Dacey then pushed her legs over the edge, grimacing a bit as she felt her abdomen pull tightly. She reached up to touch it, "Ouch."

"Yes, you were run through," the woman said. "We were amazed at your strength, able to carry yourself so far with such a wound. It is why I knew I had to save your life, you are important. Very important."

And Robb Stark wasn't?

What role did she have to play? As eldest daughter of Maege Mormont and with her cousin Jorah Mormont exiled, she was likely to inherit Bear Island. But still, Robb Stark was King in the North – he was supposed to liberate the North. So why had he not been saved? Dacey could hardly fathom, surely Robb Stark alive was more important to the Gods. She reached up, pushing back her hair from her head and looking over at the creature, why had this creature decided to keep her alive? Dacey was conflicted, even a little bothered.

"Would you like to know your importance?" The woman moved closer and Dacey stared up at her. "I only need a blood price."

"What?"

"Just some of your blood," the woman cooed. "It is enough to let me know your future."

"I…" Dacey knew it was not her brightest idea. But she wanted— _needed_ to know. "Yes."

"Here, here," the woman hurried forward, a large dagger in her hand. Dacey did not wince when her finger was cut, but she almost flinch when the woman placed her finger in her mouth and _sucked_. It was… it was awful.

The woman then pulled back and Dacey yanked her arm back toward her, she then wiped her finger furiously on the blanket that covered her. The woman hummed under her breath, stepping back slowly and nodding her head as if someone was speaking to her. Dacey was horrified, but she did not think herself strong enough to leave yet. She also had no coin, no weaponry and no horse – she would not make it, and she would not get very far. Also, where would she return? She had no word from her mother, and how would she get back to Bear Island with no coin?

"Hm," the woman's eyes flickered open. "Now, you may ask me questions."

"But I have no questions," Dacey shook her head.

"You do, they weigh heavy in your heart," the woman smiled her creepy, toothless smile. "You have three," she held up three bony fingers with long, dirty nails on their ends.

"Will this war end?"

"Aye, but not in the way you have hoped."

"Will the North be free?"

"Aye… aye…" the woman rocked back and forth, nodding her head. "The North will finally be free from the conquerors, it will be a glorious sight as the North flourishes."

"Good," Dacey then looked down at her hands. "Does my mother live?"

"Yes, but she is beyond your reach," Maggy the Frog then cocked her head to the side. "You did not wish to know if you would marry?"

"No," Dacey frowned. "I need a horse and a coin, to find my mother." Dacey paused, "Do you know where she is?"

"That is not your path," the woman's voice was quiet. "Your path is not to find her; your path is to change Westeros."

"I am one woman," Dacey scoffed. "I can't change Westeros."

"It is your destiny, it is what your Gods want," Maggy the Frog watched Dacey who pushed herself up slowly.

"What the Gods want," Dacey scoffed. "Enough with the Gods, I refuse. I am heading home to Bear Island, I refuse to step foot on the mainland again."

"The Gods grow angry," Maggy looked up at the ceiling of the thatch roof.

"Fuck the Gods!" Dacey couldn't help but yell, only to wince when she felt her wound tug.

"You must listen," the woman suddenly darted across the hut, grasping Dacey's wrist. Her nails bit into Dacey's wrist and she hissed, it was painful.

"Why?" Dacey glowered at the woman who became much shorter than her when she was standing.

"Because the Gods grow angry," Maggy the Frog's became low, and fearful. "You must listen to me, you should ride for the Reach."

"The Reach," she wanted to scoff. "That is far from where I want to go."

"You must go to the Reach," the wood's witch ignored her, nodding her head slowly. "And you must take the Rose and head for Dorne, where you will find the Sun and the Sword. The Bear, the Rose, the Sun and the Sword will come together to help Westeros."

Dacey blinked at the woman, rose, sun?

"Here," she felt something placed in her hands, it was a heavy sack of gold. "You must leave, you must go to the Reach now."

"Now?" Dacey demanded.

"Yes, yes, yes," the woman began to usher Dacey out of hut. "There is a horse, tied to a tree with a sack of food. It is yours. You must go to the Reach."

"Must I?" But Dacey was thrown out into the cold, harsh winter. Other things were thrown around her, boots and weaponry. Dacey stared, lying on the cold hard ground as the woman disappeared.

* * *

After collecting everything that had been thrown to her, and bundling herself up in thick furs, Dacey had left. She was still stiff in her movements, she wondered how long she had been in that hut with that strange woman. Thick blankets of snow had fallen over the Riverlands, they had not been there before the Red Wedding, as she had heard the wedding described, so she gathered it had been months. No wonder she was frail, her bones more pronounced than they had ever been. If she met trouble, she doubted she would be able to fight well enough to survive.

Dacey had no idea where she was, or if she was even in the Riverlands anymore. She was surrounded by forest, so she was moving toward what she hoped was the North. Despite the words of the witch, she was heading North and she was heading home – Dacey Mormont refused to listen to the warnings. She needed to find her mother, that was more important than heading to the Reach. The Reach of all places! It made no sense to her, what was in the Reach that was so important? Nothing, her mother was more important.

Creeping further through the forest, Dacey focused on the forest around her just in case thieves jumped out at her. She was in no position to fight, she would easily be defeated it if came down to it. And Dacey knew what would happen to a woman that was defeated, she would be stripped bare and brutalised. Dacey would skin a man alive before he even laid a finger on her, but still – she was not in her prime. Coughing, she winced when she felt tugging on her stomach from her wound that was still healing, she had yet to look at it.

"Come on," she urged the horse forward. "North, we need to head North." She muttered, looking around the dark forest. "North," she repeated, shivering as a chill swept over her. "North, Bear Island." But her thoughts turned to King Robb Stark who was dead, she felt sadness wash over her – she had to mourn him and Lady Stark. The Freys and their betrayal would be remembered, as would the betrayal of Roose Bolton and his bastard. Dacey shivered, how would the North react to the betrayal of those who had once been sworn to House Stark?

 _The North remembers_.

What she had to do was send a letter off to her sisters in Bear Island, to let them know she was alive. Then she would send letters to the other houses of the North, demanding they did not forget the North deserved to remain independent. Roose Bolton was nothing but a traitor, a Lannister _bitch_. A sinister smile appeared on Dacey's face, she would love to witness the death of Roose Bolton and all the Lannisters. The North had to remain strong, they could not give up on their demand for independence and their future.

Grasping the reins tighter, Dacey continued to urge the horse through the dark forest and her thoughts turned to her sisters. As the eldest she was her mother's heir, she had a responsibility to look out for all her younger siblings, and her niece and nephew. Dacey thought of Alysane's children, the grins on their dirty faces after they would get into some sort of mischief. She thought of her home and how much she missed it, how much she wanted to return to Bear Island. If only Lord Eddard Stark had not ridden South… he should have stayed in the North.

Her memories turned to that of her family.

" _Dacey! Dacey!" A voice chirped, "Dacey!"_

" _Lyanna," Dacey opened her arms to gather her younger into her arms. A girl who had only seen six summers, but had already a gift with a bow and arrow. "You have escape Lysa again, have you not?"_

 _Lyanna pouted, "No…"_

" _Hm," Dacey placed her sister on her left him. "I suppose I should find Lyra and ask, should I?"_

" _No!" Lyanna cried, "No!"_

" _But you should be at your lessons!" Dacey stared down at her little sister who was suddenly hiding her head in her sister's neck._

" _I do not want to!" Lyanna then wriggled to be placed down on the ground, her feet touched the grass and she turned to run. Dacey shook her head as her sister darted inside the keep, probably to hide from their mother. Following her sister, Dacey came to a stop when she noticed her sister Lyra hurrying out of a solar, looking a frazzled mess._

" _Dacey!" Lyra cried as she hurried toward her older sister, "Have you seen Lyanna? She has evaded me again! The little brat would make for a remarkable assassin, do you think?"_

" _I agree," Dacey smiled affectionately at her younger sister. "I haven't seen her, however."_

" _Ugh," Lyra scowled. "She is supposed to be practicing with a sword."_

" _She doesn't like sword work," Dacey reminded her sister._

" _I know this," Lyra glowered at her older sister. "But we all learned, we all excel at the sword. Why you are not teaching her," Lyra shook her head._

" _Because someone must look after the island," she shrugged her shoulders. It was only small, full of mostly farmers that often needed tending to. "It is my duty as Mother's heir," she reminded Lyra who rolled her eyes._

" _I know this," Lyra's voice was sharp. "Were Jorelle and I this bad?"_

" _Well, I was not much older than you," Dacey reminded her sister. "I watched Mother train you, but I was not part of it. Yet, I do remember sometimes when you would run screaming from Mother as you claimed she treated you poorly. Jorelle, on the other hand, is much easier and she enjoys her books much more than training."_

" _Jorelle and her books," Lyra rolled her eyes. "She should have been born a man so she could become a Maester."_

" _She will tell you that they should allow her to be a Maester no matter her gender," a grin crossed Dacey's face._

" _That is true," Lyra's smile became affectionate. "I should go find Lyanna, Mother will be furious with me if I allow her to get away from her lessons."_

" _She should not be too hard to find," Dacey licked her lips. "I would check the stables, I believe she climbs up to the top to check on the kittens that have just been born from her cat."_

" _Ah," Lyra grinned quickly, "Thank you Dace." She then hurried toward the stables, ready to drag Lyanna out by the ear._

 _Dacey headed through the grounds toward Mormont Keep, her eyes forward as she gazed up at the large, wooden and stone keep. It was a master piece, perhaps not as big as Winterfell, Deepwood Mott or Moat Cailin – but it was sizeable. And it was comforting, always the hearths were on as the chill winds from the North blew all year round. Most of the windows were sealed with a glass to protect the inside from the outside cold, it was lovely. Dacey preferred her keep, to any other that her mother had described._

" _Dacey," she looked up as her mother, Maege Mormont, exited a solar. Maege was getting on in years, but that did not distract from her strength. She was not the most beautiful woman, with hard features and robust strength much like Dacey's sister Alysane. But she was strong, a strength often other women did not possess._

" _Mother," Dacey stepped forward, hands behind her back. "Do we have a problem?"_

" _No more so than usual," Maege smiled. "I am thinking of writing to Lord Eddard Stark, seeking to foster his youngest daughter – Lady Arya. It is said she is as wilful as her aunt."_

" _I think that would be good, Mother," Dacey agreed, as it would strengthen their ties with the North. "How old is she?"_

" _A girl only a year older than Lyanna," Maege Mormont smiled. "She would be a good companion to Lyanna."_

" _I agree," Dacey took a look at Jorelle who followed her Mother out of the solar, her nose stuck in a book. "Jorelle, what are you reading?"_

" _About Aegon the Conqueror," she looked up with forest green eyes. "It's really interesting, I would like to ride a dragon."_

" _Well you cannot," Maege frowned, "And it is a bloody good thing the dragons are dead."_

Unfortunately, Arya Stark would never be fostered on Bear Island. That had been a shame, she had gone South which could not have been the worst thing to do to the wilful girl. Dacey's mother had complained, Maege Mormont had thought Lord Eddard Stark an idiot for heading South too. Dacey had not had much of an opinion on it, how could Lord Eddard Stark have refused his King? But she thought Robert Baratheon was a fool, the Stark was not fit to be hand of the King – he had too much honour.

And Dacey had been correct.

* * *

She found a road, a large long road and she had no idea where she was going. But she hoped it was the King's Road, she had to head North. Dacey gripped her reins as she looked around the road that was quiet, the sky was darkening so there were not many people on the road. And with the war going on, the Riverlands being ravaged she doubted that many of the smallfolk would be away from their homes. It was too dangerous, especially with the Lannisters out and about, they would murder without thinking.

The fucking Lannisters, Dacey's mouth curled at the thought of the golden shits who had murdered her king. She wanted Joffrey Baratheon, the bastard, dead and every other Lannister with him. Dacey pressed her lips together, even Lady Catelyn had been murdered by the Freys, Boltons and the Lannisters. She hoped the Old Gods would have their revenge again, that they would take down those who had betrayed the King in the North. Her eyes looked out at the road and she continued, her direction a little confused but she was trying hard to make her way to the North.

Dacey reached down to the bag attached to her saddle, pulling out some bread she had been given. She bit into it, pulling a face as it was not lovely and soft as it could have been. But it was enough, she then reached to the jug of water that was tied to her saddle as well. She sipped some of the water, continuing to urge her horse further along the road. Her thoughts drifted to Maggy the Frog, she hoped that the creature in the forest was wrong. She had to get North, what was the point in delaying it?

She continued ahead, taking in the sights and listening for any sounds of battle. There still had to be some Northern forces, her mother had been sent off toward Moat Cailin and there had to be other, small bands that had not been at the Twins. Dacey's hands clenched tightly around the reins, there was no way she was going to forget what had happened and the man who had swung a weapon through her abdomen. As if remembering, she felt a tinge and reached over to place her hand on her abdomen where the wound was.

Dacey continued to move on, she had to make sure that she got home and did not end up dying on the way there. Her injury was healing, she had seen it the other night and had been surprised at the stitches. It was more of an angry red line than a bloody wound, Dacey's thoughts turned to how long she had been in that hut and she feared that it had been too long – way too long. But there was nothing she could do, she had no way to tell the time and she was alone, without a companion.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Dacey pulled off to the side of the road and further into the forest. She climbed down from the horse and grimaced, her body ached as she tied the horse to a tree. Then, she proceeded to ready herself for the night by lighting a fire and grabbing the extra coats that were thrown over the back of the horse. The sky continued to darken as Dacey huddled, pulling the coats and furs around her to get even warmer. She shivered, yawning as she stared at the fire that flickered and the smoke that danced to the sky.

The Old Gods, what was the plan for her? Dacey shook her head, frustrated at the thought that she had no idea what was going on. Home, she wanted to go home. What the fuck did that witch mean? Dacey let herself fall to the side as she stared at the fire and shivered, attempting to get some sort of warmth. But if she attempted to get closer to the fire it was likely that the fire would jump onto the furs and the coats – she would burn to death. She would not survive one death only to throw herself into another.

Dacey's eyes were set upon the fire as it danced, her vision blurred. A tear slipped from her eyes, she reached up to touch her wet cheek. But the tears did not stop, she felt that her tears were a weakness and she muffled her cries by reaching up to cover her mouth. She could not stop the tears, or the cries as her shoulders shook and she stared into the fire. She cried for Lady Catelyn Stark, for King Robb Stark… she cried for her people and the North – those who had to suffer.

The tears could not stop, she reached up to rub the back of her neck that was aching with her hand she had been muffling her cries with. The forest was quiet and it echoed with her cries, it was almost mournful. She felt eyes upon her, as if the Old Gods themselves were watching her and waiting for her to make a decision. It felt as if they were mourning with her also, mourning for the man who almost managed to win the North's independence. Dacey wanted to continue, she wanted to make sure that the North was _free_.

" _Dacey… Dacey…" a voice whispered in her ear, she looked up, turning her head. "Dacey…" she could not find the owner of the voice. Where were they hiding? "Dacey…" she began to move, as she did she noticed the voice grew layered. It was multiple voices, they all seemed to overlap one another as the voice continued to whisper her name. It came from all around, floating through one ear and our the other. It caressed her, Dacey felt as if she was free and as if her life was something anew. Where was she and where was the voice?_

 _She continued to move, running her fingers over leaves as she continued to move. She paused, freezing when she noticed the Weirwood tree that was adjacent to the Mormont Keep. Dacey continued to move, coming in front of the tree just to bend her knees and fall in front of the weirwood tree. She stared at the face that was built into the weirwood tree and she held out her hand. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand on the tree. Electricity shot threw her and her head threw back, she let out a loud cry._

" _Dacey Mormont," she saw herself greeting someone._

" _Of Bear Island?"_

" _Yes, I have come because we have a duty."_

" _A duty?"_

" _To the Kingdom, to the true King."_

" _The true King?"_

" _Yes."_

" _And who might that be?"_

 _The scene changed once again, and she found herself in another place, it felt warm to touch._

" _And who do you think you are?"_

" _Dacey Mormont."_

" _And what do you want?"_

" _To serve the true King."_

" _The true King?" The voice laughed loudly, "And who might that be?"_

 _Once again the scene changed and her hair was whipping around her face, there was joy in her expression. She was much different, her hair longer and she appeared freer. There was a scar on her right cheek that had not been there before, it changed her. She was waving at someone, who was coming toward her but the sun was too bright and she could not see who it was. But there was cheers, there was shouts for a King who Dacey did not know the appearance of. She was so confused as the world spun and she found herself in front of the weirwood tree, gasping and staring at the face who came alive in front of her._

" _See," the tree spoke and her eyes widened in surprise. "That is why you must go to the Reach, do you understand?"_

" _The Reach…" she shook her head. It was sudden, "I can't just go to the Reach."_

" _You must, it is important," the tree spoke with a thousand voices. She could not distinguish the separate voices, but she knew it was the old Gods that spoke to her. "Dacey Mormont, it is the will of the Gods that you go to the Reach and you find the Rose. Then you must take the Rose and you must go to the Sun, and then to find the Sword. Do you understand!?" The voice boomed._

Dacey gasped, throwing herself up into a sitting position and blinking rapidly. Her heart was pounding inside her chest as she reached up, pressing her hand to her heart and looking around her campsite. The horse was find, though it appeared rather spooked and she could still hear the echo of the voice in her ears. The fire was out, nothing but ashes and she stared up at the sky as dawn seemed to approach quickly. Dacey was up, gathering the coats and her belongings.

"The Reach, find the Rose, take the Rose and find the Sun," she repeated under her breath as she swung herself onto her horse. "And then the Sword. What else?"


	2. II

**Thank you so much for the response so far for this story, I was so worried that nobody would like it. I am worried about future chapters and that the quality of my writing will go down, but I'm hopeful you like it anyway.**

 **Hope this answers who the Rose is for you all, I really like this person as a character and I'm curious to explore them more. Next two chapters you will find out the other two characters.**

 **Thank you all so much for the support.**

* * *

 **II**

 **WILLAS**

 **A** waxed envelope sat on the desk in front of him. "This is what you wished to show me?" He asked after he finished reading the letter.

"Yes," the servant stared at the heir to Highgarden.

"And this is why my father left?" He gritted his teeth, "Because he intends to marry off my widowed sister to the boy king." He rubbed his chin, "And where is my grandmother?"

"In the gardens, my Lord," the servant gazed down at the carpeted ground beneath their feet. "Do you wish for me to send for her?"

"No," he held out his hand. "I will search for her."

Pushing himself up, he wobbled and reached over to his walking stick and grasped it tightly. It was made of only the finest wood found in Highgarden, with a golden rose placed on the top. He wobbled slightly, as he always did, but regained his strength and began to limp toward the door. It would take him a while to search for his grandmother, but he needed to stretch his legs and his mind was a whirlwind. His father was so ambitious, but it bothered him the way he used Margaery to achieve those ambitions.

Willas smiled at those he passed, as he was known for being king. That was from his mother's side, his grandmother claimed. Alerie Hightower was known for being rather kind, she was a wonderful mother but his grandmother claimed she was not suited to be a lady. He made his way down the steps from his tower, grasping tight to the railing that had been installed for him. It took one step at a time, placing his good leg down on one step first, then his bad leg on the step after. He was slow, but he had to be careful.

Once he was down from the steps, he continued to limp toward the wide, open doors that would lead him to the gardens. The white stone that covered the ground was always kept clean, it was cleaned daily by the servants of the castle. Highgarden had to be sparkling, not a piece of dirt could be found. If dirt was found, it would ruin the pristine beauty that Olenna Tyrell and those before her had worked to cultivate. Willas headed toward the stairs that led to one of the smaller gardens, the gardens his grandmother often frequented.

Pushing his fingers through his hair, Willas came around the maze of roses to the middle. His grandmother sat in the middle, eat in hand with all sorts of cakes that surrounded her. She was alone which was not unusual, if she was not with his sister, his father or himself she was in her own solitude. Olenna Tyrell enjoyed being with herself, Willas gathered it was because dealing with others was growing tiring for her in her old age. He moved further into the centre of the garden, coming to stand in front of the white table and chairs his grandmother was seated at.

"Willas," his grandmother's voice was cool as she greeted him. "What brings you to my gardens?"

"Father intends to marry Margaery to King Joffrey," Willas leaned against his walking stick.

"Yes, he does," Olenna Tyrell said carefully. "It is rather ambitious of your father. Margaery already wed one king, and to marry another…"

"He should be grateful the Lannisters do not strike him down," Willas was careful with his words. "But they will not."

"No, they will not," his grandmother agreed. "Tea?"

"Please," he said as he pulled out the seat opposite her and sat, leaning his walking stick against the table.

"The Lannisters are not stupid enough to slight us," his grandmother said. "Even Cersei Lannister would not deny Margaery marry Joffrey."

"They need all the support they can get," Willas murmured.

"Yes, they have lost much support," Olenna offered him his cup of tea which he sipped.

"Will you go with them?"

"I would not miss such an opportunity," Olenna smiled. "You will not come?"

"No," Willas shook his head. "I will stay."

"Of course," Olenna's voice was cool as she leaned back in her seat. "I am not surprised."

"It is expected," he smirked at his grandmother.

"And how is Dorne?" Olenna asked before taking a sip of her tea.

"Well," he answered casually. "Dorne will attend the wedding of Joffrey and Margaery," Willas told her. "I do not think they would miss it."

"I must agree," Olenna leaned back in her seat. "It is a shame the Starks will miss it."

"One Stark will be there," he reminded his grandmother. "Lady Sansa Stark."

"Yes, their delicate little prisoner," Olenna smiled. "I look forward to meeting her. I think she would make you a lovely bride, do you agree?"

"She is a child, Grandmother," he rolled his eyes.

"But a lovely child, so the reports say," Olenna leaned back. "And I am told she has flowered. It is time you took a bride, Willas."

"Grandmother," his voice was heavy. "There is a time for marriage, and it is not now."

"Now is a perfect time for weddings," Lady Olenna chastised. "When we need allies the most, it is important to gain those allies through marriage."

"And are we not tying ourselves to the crown?" Willas rose a groomed, dark brow. "That should be enough allies for us, we are, after all, in bed with the Lannisters now."

"Yes, it is not ideal," Olenna picked up a little cake, biting into it and swallowing before speaking again. "I would much rather the Lannister shits die, but the Young Wolf failed at did Loras's Renly, so it is not as if we have much choice."

"Unfortunately," Willas blinked slowly. "But where did Father get this misguided idea that Margaery would make the bastard a good queen?"

His grandmother blinked innocently, "I do not know where your father would get such an idea."

"No, of course not," his voice was cool as he breathed in the flowery scent of the garden.

"Margaery would make a good queen," his grandmother attempted to convince him. "And we need some power, especially with the state of things."

"Yes," he leaned back in his seat. "Westeros has been led into a mess."

"That boy never should have cut off Ned Stark's head," Olenna clicked her tongue. "Then the Wolf Boy would never have thought to rise up against the crown."

"Perhaps Cersei Lannister should never have fucked her brother," Willas said casually as he sipped his tea. "Then my sister would not have to marry a bastard."

"We do not know if it is true."

"Grandmother, please," Willas snorted. "We both know that it is true."

"Suppose so, but who else are we supposed to support?" Olenna raised a brow, "The girl with the dragons across the Narrow Sea?"

"She is the true heir to the throne," he thought to remind her. "When do you leave for King's Landing? How long will it be before Margaery quickens with his child?"

"You know I would never let it get that far," his grandmother cooed. "If all goes well, Margaery will not stay married to that little monster for very long."

"Treasonous words."

"Perhaps," she tilted her head toward him. "But do you agree?"

"I agree," he said carefully. "I do not wish to go to King's Landing. I never want to step foot in that pit of snakes, ever again. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you," his grandmother leaned against the chair. "You are to stay in Highgarden, we need a Tyrell here."

"Yes," he paused and placed his empty cup down on the saucer. "I hope you will enjoy your trip to King's Landing. I do believe that you will thrive there, Grandmother."

"Then you know me well," she looked up as two guards entered the gardens. "Ser Gerold, Ser Allastair," his grandmother pushed herself up to her two feet. "Are you here to escort me to the buffoon that is my son?"

"Yes, my Lady," Ser Gerold then bowed toward Willas. "My Lord."

"Sers," Willas pushed himself to his feet, grasping the walking stick. "Does my father also have need of me?"

"No," Ser Allastair answered. "But Lady Alerie and Lady Margaery have requested your presence."

"Well, perhaps I should see to them," he limped over to his grandmother. He brushed a kiss to her forehead, nodded at the two men and turned to limp away.

Willas's thoughts turned to the dangerous game they were playing, sending Margaery to King's Landing to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He did not believe that any good would come from the choices they were making. But Willas had to trust his grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, she would protect them. He continued to limp out of the gardens, toward the keep where he would find his mother and sister. Margaery was probably excited, while Renly had been handsome he had also loved their brother. Margaery would have control over her new husband.

* * *

His mother and sister could be found in one of the parlour rooms, taking their afternoon tea. His mother, Alerie Hightower, was dressed in a high neck. Her dress was a light-yellow colour that complimented her light brown hair and her hazel eyes. Her hair was pinned up, several loose curls hung around her face and her neck but his mother was still as lovely as ever. Their mother was where Margaery received her soft beauty from, but Margaery received her personality from their grandmother. Perhaps the only one who was as kind as their mother was Garland.

"Mother, Margaery," he said as he entered, smiling at them both. He then limped over to his mother, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

"My dear Willas," his mother reached out to grasp his free hand. "Please have a seat."

"Where were you Willas?" Margaery asked, a perfectly arched, dark brown brow raised.

"With Grandmother," he answered as he sat down, his mother helping him by grasping his walking stick.

"Ah," Margaery bit down on a lemon cake. "And how did that go?"

"Wonderful, as always," he smiled at his little sister. "You are to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It seems Father's dreams for his only daughter will be realised."

"Yes," Margaery's long, delicate lashes fluttered. "I cannot be happier."

"I cannot believe my daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," his mother's voice was breathless. "It seems only yesterday your father struggled against Robert Baratheon in the rebellion, our support for the Targaryens misguided. We have fought to be taken seriously, to let them know House Tyrell is an ally. And now our daughter will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, this is an honour…" his mother seemed almost brought to tears by the line his father had no doubt spouted to his mother constantly since the betrothal had been announced.

Willas looked to his sister who was staring down at the little cakes on her plate. His sister was wearing a dress of light blue that was very low cut, he thought it inappropriate that his sister wore such a thing. But it was the fashion of the South. Her hair was dark brown and left curly, half of it was piled on top of her head and the other half loose. Her big brown eyes surrounded by thick lashes did not move from the plate of her cakes.

"Yes, an honour," his sister then looked up with a smile. Her dimples in her cheeks were revealed, but he knew that it was a fake smile. His sister knew her duty, but like most girls she dreamed of dashing knights and love when she had been a child.

"You will do us proud," Lady Alerie reached over the table, grasping her daughter's hand lovingly. "Garland is already married, Loras intends to be a member of the Kingsguard. I suppose it is time for you to be married Willas, I am sure we will find a suitable bride for you in King's Landing."

"I am sure you will," he did not sound sure.

"How goes your breeding?" His mother asked suddenly and Willas met her hazel eyes, that were much like his own.

"It is well," he answered. "Several of my horses will be foaling soon, and several of the hounds will be ready to whelp."

"We are proud of you," Alerie reached out to grasp her son's hand. "You may not be the warrior or knight your brothers are, but you have shown your resilience and your strength as an heir of Highgarden."

"Mother," he studied her. "Please, there is no need for you to sing me praises."

"You know she cannot help herself," Margaery finally picked up one of her little cakes, biting down on the sweet. "Would you like one?" His sister held up her plate, "I've noticed you staring at them."

"Thank you," he then reached over to grasp a lemon cake, taking a bite out of the tarty sweet.

"There are still days before we leave," his mother said suddenly. "But there is still much that needs to be done to ensure we are prepared for what King's Landing will bring to us."

Willas looked around the solar, at the décor and the furniture that surrounded them. Willas, his mother and his sister were sitting on a set of chairs at a table in front of the large, bay window that overlooked the gardens. His eyes then turned from the Myrish lace curtains to the walls that were painted a pale-yellow colour, his mother's favourite colour. She had paintings hung on the wall, most of the paintings were that of flowers and few were family portraits, of himself and his siblings as his mother liked to surround herself with her children.

When she was granted grandchildren, Willas could almost imagine the amount of joy his mother would hold. As Garland was the only one married, he was more likely to give their parents grandchildren before Willas. Loras was unlikely to marry, he had lost his lover Renly and did not find females appealing – which was why he wanted to become part of the Kingsguard. Margaery would marry King Joffrey Baratheon, and her duty would be to give him his heir and as many spares as possible – but his mother would unlikely see her daughter's grandchildren often.

Willas came to rest his hand on the thigh of his bad leg, there was still an aching pain that came and went in his leg, near a decade after the accident had occurred. But as his mother had said, Willas had been doing well for himself despite the injury. He had managed to remain as heir of Highgarden, but there was really nothing wrong with him except for his leg – therefore he would be able to father heirs. He had made a successful business in breeding hawks, hounds and horses that brought money into Highgarden, making the Tyrells richer.

His grandmother was most proud.

"Leonette, darling," his mother announced and Willas turned his head.

His goodsister, Leonette, had entered the room. She wore a dress the colour of sunflowers, her brown hair was curled beautiful and hung down her back. She wore a few flowers in her hair and her eyes were bright, she was much smaller than Margaery with a heart shaped face. Willas had always thought his goodsister to be a great match to his carefree older brother. The two of them were kind and loving, they were not ashamed to show how much they loved each other in front of others.

"Lady Alerie," Leonette said as she came to sit in the only available seat around the table. "Margaery, Willas," she nodded at the two of them.

"What brings you here, my dear?" Alerie asked, reaching over to touch Leonette's hand, grasping it lightly.

"I thought to come for tea," Leonette looked down at the table. "I had not realised that your tea would be over."

"We can bring in some more," Lady Alerie went to motion to one of the guards but was stopped by Leonette.

"Oh no, my Lady," Leonette shook her head. "There is no need. I have come to share gossip, however."

"Gossip, rather exciting," his mother grinned and turned to smile at Margaery. "It is rather exciting, is it not?"

"Yes, Mother," Margaery turned to smile at her goodsister who was only a year older than her. "I do wish to hear this gossip."

"Lord Willas," Leonette looked directly at him, smiling wide. "Do you also wish to hear the gossip?"

"No," he pushed himself into a seating position. He then grasped his walking stick, nodding at the ladies. "I will excuse myself now, it was good to speak with you, Mother, Margaery. Good day," he nodded and turned to limp out of the doorway.

The gossip would be unimportant, Willas gathered. Leonette would receive gossip through Garland who loved to gossip himself, most of the gossip would be about the Reach. Willas continued to limp, heading toward the stables so he could check on his horses that were close to foaling. He nodded at his men as he hurried along the dirt track toward the stables, a hedge ran along each side of the trail. He breathed in deeply, breathing in the fresh air as he moved closer to the stables.

"My Lord," one of the stablemasters nodded at him. "One of them is close."

"Which one?" Willas asked as he followed the man who walked slower for his lord.

"The Lady Daffodil," his man explained as they made their way into the stables. He could hear the cries of his horse, "We believe the foal should come by tonight."

"Then it appears I have a long night ahead of me," Willas said, "Tell one of your boys to bring me a chair."

"Of course, my Lord," the man then called for a young boy and Willas settled in to watch his horse.

* * *

The nights were getting longer, Willas was reminded of the words of House Stark _Winter is Coming_. Perhaps it was true as he pulled his coat around himself, the nights were longer and much colder than they had been many moons ago. As he breathed out, he noticed the air slip from his mouth and he could see it. He was performing his nightly ritual of going for a walk, taking his time to walk around the grounds of Highgarden. It was something he had done since he had been able to walk after his accident, his mother had never approved but he did not need her permission.

As he continued to walk down the familiar path to the largest gardens in Highgarden, he thought he heard his name whispered. Willas turned his head quickly, furrowing his brows as he paused his walking. He was frozen in place; the gardens were silent and the air seemed still. Though there was a chill in the air, there was something unusual about the silence. Willas then continued to move, limping and grasping his walking stick even tighter. It felt as if he was being _watched…_ perhaps he should have brought a guard with him.

He thought he heard someone call his name, walking faster he thought to walk toward the area where he could swear someone was calling his name. He limped faster, pushing himself to get closer to where he could swear someone was calling his name. When he came around the corner, he found himself pausing when he noticed he was nearing the weirwood trees. They were of the Old Gods, nobody in the Reach followed the Old Gods any longer – instead they followed the Faith of the Seven, which was a more popular religion in the South.

Willas thought it strange that he was walking toward the oldest weirwood. He had never spent time with the weirwoods before, they were hidden in the oldest part of the gardens and had not been torn down. None of them had ever spent time there, his father and grandmother often looked down on those that followed the Old Gods. Much of the South thought themselves superior to those who still worshipped the Old Gods. Willas had never thought of them, he did not worship the Faith of the Seven much either, he had no time for religion in his life.

As he made his way toward the weirwood, the largest in the group, Willas gazed up at it. Staring at the dark leaves, studying the tree as he looked down toward the face. He had always thought it odd there were faces carved into the trees, but he guessed that was with the people of the North prayed to the trees. He blinked at the tree, wondering why something had urged him to come to the old woods. Willas pressed his lips together tightly, turning to head back to the keep when he heard his name again. It was much closer and it sent shivers up his spine.

"Who goes there?" He demanded.

But there was silence in answer.

"I said," his voice became harsher, "Who goes there?"

The wind blew through the trees, blowing around his face and his hair. He received no answer, Willas narrowed as he stared into the dark.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clenching his hand tightly around the top of his walking stick. "What do you want from me?" His voice boomed, echoing through the quiet of the gardens as he then turned to look right back at the face in the weirwood tree.

Willas then placed his hand on the tree and his body arched, his head was thrown out and a scream erupted from his lips. Willas then proceeded to buckled, kneeling was not his preferred position as it put much strain on his bad leg. His hand had dropped from the tree and he was gasping, staring up at the tree and ignoring the strain in his legs. What was going on? He stared at the tree and blinked slowly, he then decided to reach out as if to place his hand on the tree again but stopped himself.

" _Willas,"_ the whisper became clear and he turned his head.

"Who goes there?" He growled, pushing himself to his feet. He grasped his walking stick and found himself leaning against the tree. "Who is out there?"

" _The Gods of Old,"_ the whisper seemed so loud in his ear but there was nothing around him. _"There is much to be done, Willas Tyrell. There will be many opportunities for you."_

"What?" He forgot his propriety and he frowned. But when the Old Gods spoke to you, what emotions and actions were one supposed to use? His heart pounded in his chest.

" _You have a duty,"_ something whispered in his ear. _"A duty to the Gods of Old, to yourself and to the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."_

"What?" Willas repeated, his brows rose. "The true ruler?" He grimaced.

"Lord Willas!" He heard shouts, "Lord Willas!"

" _The Bear will come… and you will head to the Sun, where you must also find the sword."_

The whisper faded, leaving Willas without answers. "Lord Willas," one of the knights burst out from behind the trees. "We have been looking for you, we have been gone for hours."

"Hours?" He blinked at the knights who followed after the first one.

"Yes," the knights all shared look. "The Lady Olenna sent us to find you."

"Then we should be getting back to the Keep," Willas looked back at the weirwood, frowning. Why were the Old Gods speaking to him? They were not his Gods.

"Yes, Lord Willas," the guards helped to guide Willas through the gardens back to the keep.

When he arrived, his mother immediately embraced him. "Oh Willas," she cried, "We were so worried. You have missed dinner."

Had he really been gone for so long? "Apologies, Mother," he told her, staring down into her eyes. "I had not known the time had passed so quickly."

"Well, come along," his mother urged. "It is a rather cold night, the hearth has been lit. Come, you must be cold."

He was led into one of the larger rooms, placed in a seat by the roaring fire as his family watched him with concern. "Thank you," he said as food was placed down in front of him.

"Where did you go?" His father demanded, double chin shaking.

"I found myself near the weirwoods," he said as he moved to sip his wine.

"The weirwoods?" His father was incredulous, "Why would you go there of all places?"

"I do not know," he frowned, would his family find it strange he thought something was calling to him?

His grandmother moved to sit down in the seat in front of him, placing her hands on her stomach. "We should have had the old things ripped up long ago."

"No," he then said, shaking his head. "We shouldn't rip them up. They have their place."

"We do not worship the Gods who live among them," his mother spoke up from behind his grandmother. "There is no need for us to have those trees, Willas."

"But I do not think they need to be ripped up, Mother."

His mother appeared displeased, "We have no need for those trees. Lady Olenna is right, Willas."

He looked toward his grandmother, "I believe they should stay."

"Fine," his grandmother waved her hand. "I suppose that is what the heir to Highgarden demands."

"Mother," Mace Tyrell shook his head. "Those trees should be ripped up at the root."

"And your son, and heir, has demanded they should not," Olenna placed her hands on the arm rests, pushing herself to her feet. "As he is the future of this house, I think we should listen to his demands."

Mace Tyrell only gritted his teeth together, "And you also wish to revert us back to the Old Gods, son?"

"No, Father," Willas scowled up at his father, turning to look at the plate of food in front of him. "I just think that those trees should not be removed. They have an importance here."


	3. III

**I decided to upload another chapter, thank you for the reviews and for the response to this. It means a lot, I just wanted to upload another chapter because yeah, I just wanted to get it out the way with since I have a lot of assessments due for the moment.**

 **I also want to reveal who the sun is.**

 **Enjoy, thank you for reading once again.**

* * *

 **III**

 **ARIANNE**

 **MYRCELLA** Baratheon was very beautiful, clearly she had been blessed with the looks of her mother. Arianne observed, she had soft curling hair that fell to the middle of her back. She was only young, born three years after Trystane who had taken a liking to the young girl. It was a smart match, Arianne thought as she stared down the balcony, watching her brother lead the girl away from the keep and toward the gardens. The girl's knight followed closely behind, keeping watch over her just in case of an attack, that could likely happen.

It was Dorne after all, and they did not forget the murder of Elia Martell and her children.

"What are you doing?" She heard the voice of her cousin and she whipped around, "Plotting murder of children?"

"We do not hurt little girls in Dorne, Tyene." Arianne's voice was hard, the reminder of what happened to Rhaenys still angered them.

"Oh, I know," Tyene sauntered across the floor of the balcony.

"I was just thinking," Arianne pressed her lips together. "I do not know why Father thought a Lannister would suit Trystane."

"She seems sweet enough for your brother," Tyene shrugged her shoulders. "She is rather beautiful."

"She is," Arianne agreed. "It seems she was given the beauty of her mother but not the poisonous heart." She then narrowed her eyes, "She is yet a girl of nine, she has time to grow treacherous."

"Please, cousin," Tyene laughed, "Wine?"

"Yes," Arianne pushed herself away from the railing, coming to sit across from her cousin on one of the lounges.

"Perhaps you should be thankful your father has not married you off yet," Tyene reminded her cousin.

"I am sure it is dream to marry me off," she glowered. "So he does not have to deal with me."

"My father is to attend the wedding of King Joffrey and Lady Margaery," Tyene changed the subject quickly. Her voice was layered in heavy disgust, "I offered to go with him, but he will only take Ellaria."

"And Father will not send me," Arianne sipped on her wine, leaning back.

"Father is many things, he is there to intimidate them," Tyene reminded her cousin. "You would be more likely to get yourself in trouble."

Arianne glowered at her cousin, "I want to watch the Lannisters burn."

"Exactly, you would not be able to hide your disgust," Tyene was the voice of reason. "It is why it is best to send my father."

"Stop it," Arianne then glowered at her cousin. But she could not keep a straight face and ended up laughing, "You always know how to calm me down."

"Of course," a sly smile then came over Tyene's face. "But I know what is best to calm you. A handsome man, I have noticed you watching Ser Arys Oakheart."

"He is a handsome man," Arianne leaned back. "You know I have a weakness for handsome men."

"And I suppose he is an easy target," Tyene raised a brow. "A man suppressed of sexual desires. I suppose what else is desirable is the fact he works for the Lannisters."

"There's nothing better than knowing every movement of the Lannisters," Arianne spat the name.

"But he is a lowly knight, he will not know much," Tyene reminded her cousin. "He is just here to protect Princess Myrcella."

"I know this," Arianne shook her head. "Enough of this talk."

"I want to go to King's Landing, I asked Father," Tyene looked down inside her cup. "But he does not want any of us to go, he does not even want Ellaria to go."

Arianne straightened, "None of us would step foot in that pit of snakes. Not willingly."

"And Father goes on behalf of Prince Doran," Tyene cleared her throat. "Obara is the most furious he will not take her."

"I can imagine," Arianne thought of her oldest cousin. Obara Sand, perpetually angry and protective over her family. "But he will not change his mind?"

"He refuses to," Tyene shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps it is best we do not go, they do not hold much love for bastards passed the mountains."

"A rather primitive idea," Arianne smirked.

Silence fell over them and Arianne pressed her lips together. She as still frustrated, stuck in the same cycle. She had thought some excitement would come to Dorne when Princess Myrcella arrived, but it seemed she was just a young, naïve girl. That meant there was nothing, and Arianne could not very well travel to the Water Gardens when she was still so angry. She would have to seduce Ser Arys Oakheart, at least he would provide some semblance of entertainment and win favour with a Lannister knight. It would also keep her busy, busy enough not to think of her father, or mother.

"What are you thinking, cousin?" Tyene's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Of the handsome knight that arrived with Princess Myrcella," she smirked. "What we have already discussed."

"Seducing him will not be easy," Tyene reached over to pull a grape off the stem.

"But I do like a challenge," Arianne suddenly stood, determined. "No man can resist me."

"Do let me get a taste when you succeed," Tyene could not help but encourage her. While Tyene could be a voice of reason, she also helped Arianne with some of her worst ideas.

And seducing Ser Arys had to be one of them.

"Of course," Arianne purred.

"And Nym will also want to try," Tyene suddenly straightened. "Perhaps we should tell her of your plan, it will excite her and distract her from her anger."

"At your father?"

"Yes," Tyene nodded. "It seemed that Dornish fathers know easily how to piss of their daughters."

"I am sure it is something most girls experience," Arianne paused. "I would figure it is worse in the rest of Westeros. Having to be married off without a say, why they do not fight back I will never understand."

"Their sense of duty," Tyene only shrugged her shoulders. "I wish you luck on your attempt to seduce Ser Arys, hopefully the Gods have you in their favour."

"Thank you, cousin, such kind words," Arianne replied mockingly.

"I should be off," Tyene pushed her hair off her shoulder so it fell behind her back. "I want Father prepared for King's Landing."

"How so?"

"Poison," Tyene's eyes so similar to her father's eyes seemed to dance with mirth. "You can never be too sure when there is need for poison."

"Then go," Arianne waved her cousin off, "I think I will find them in the gardens."

Tyene left, skirts swirling around her ankles as she moved off the balcony and into the keep. Arianne poured herself some more wine, moving toward the balcony and staring down at the gardens. Ser Arys Oakheart, Prince Trystane and Princess Myrcella were out of sight by now, she could not see even the gold of the girl's hair. But she would be able to find them, her brother would take them to his favourite place that was filled with red lilies, which he would most likely offer to Princess Myrcella in a struggled attempt to woo her.

Finishing off her wine, Arianne turned and let her own skirts swirl around her ankles. She had dressed for seduction, a dress the colour purple, that revealed too much of her breasts to be considered modest. A large slit came up the side of the form fitting dress, showing much of her legs. She wore sandals on her feet, a gold anklet around her ankle. She wore bangles up and down her arm, a cuff on her bicep and jewels around her neck – all gold, which was what she looked best in. Someone had once commented she looked best naked, with only gold adorning her.

Her hair was black and curly, as usual. Half of it was pulled up, gold hair adornments and a tiara that she always wore as she liked the reminder that she was the Princess of Dorne. Her eyes narrowed, lined with black kohl that made her eyes appear darker and more seductive. Everything she did, every choice she made, she did it to appear more intimidating, untouchable. That was her goal, she did not want to appear approachable like her father appeared. She wanted to be his opposite, in every single way.

Nodding at one of the servants who had come to clean the balcony. Arianne moved away from the railing and inside the keep, deciding to head to the gardens to find the three. She smoothed her hands over her dress, heading down the stairs and toward the front of the keep. It was wide open, flowers surrounded the entrance and she headed down the steps toward the white, gravel road that led to the gardens. Arianne headed down them.

"Princess Arianne," she heard someone call and she turned slowly.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked the servant who came toward her.

"A letter has arrived, from Prince Doran."

* * *

She was angry, her father had sent specific instructions that she was not to leave Dorne under any circumstances. She was not sure why, what could make her father so desperate the he would confine her to Dorne? Not that she had left Dorne, she had tried that once but her uncle had dragged her back kicking and screaming. She had not forgiven him for that either, she was very successful at holding grudges. It was something that she was most proud of, that it took a long time for someone to earn her forgiveness.

It helped to prevent her from being fooled, except her father managed to fool her more often than not. Scrunching up the letter, she threw it to the floor and glowered down at her desk. Did she send a letter off to her father? No, it would only suit to enrage him. Perhaps enraging him would do well, it would get him out of his comfort zone that the Water Gardens had become. Arianne poured herself some more wine as she contemplated what she would do. Rebellion sounded the best course of action, and rebellion was in the form of a Lannister knight.

Getting up from her desk, she finished off her wine and headed out of the solar. She nodded at the guards who stood loyally by the door, and headed toward the gardens. It was late, likely Ser Arys Oakheart would have urged the little princess and her littlest brother inside as it was getting dark. The dinner feast would also be served, filling the room with all her cousins, several nobles who were in Sunspear to welcome the princess. Arianne was excited to set about seducing the knight, she could just imagine her father's anger.

"Princess Arianne," she looked toward a servant. "You requested I inform you of when Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane had arrived?"

"Yes."

"Then they have arrived," the servant bowed his head. "Princess Myrcella has been taken to her chambers to prepare herself for dinner, as has Prince Trystane."

"And the knight?" She could see the servant looking displeased, but what right did a servant have to judge her?

"He is watching dutifully over his charge, my Princess," the servant then bowed. "I will excuse myself now to get the hall prepared for the feast."

"Off you go, then," she waved off the servant.

Arianne then headed toward the feast hall, surprised to see Nymeria standing close to the door. Her cousin was dressed in silks, revealing much of her legs and breasts in a dress that would not be deemed respectful in King's Landing. Nym's hair was left loose, to fall in raven waves down her back. Nym was the most beautiful, tall and sleek with enough deadly beauty to frighten any young virgin who came to stand near her. Nymeria took it all in stride, she was most proud of the way she intimidated.

"Nym," Arianne smiled at her cousin. "I am surprised to see you early for the feast."

"I should say the same to you cousin," Nym studied her cousin.

"I am here in place of my father, Prince Doran Martell," his title was still bitter on her tongue. "To greet Princess Myrcella to Dorne."

"She is a sweet girl," Nym commented. "Not entirely what I had thought."

"A hideous, spoilt little brat?" Arianne snickered, "I could not agree more. But her mother is said to be the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros, so I doubt she would have been ugly."

"Her mother _was_ ," Nym reminded with a roll of her eyes. "But yes, I did not expect such a sweet girl."

"Speaking of the girl," Arianne smiled pleasantly as her brother led Princess Myrcella to the hall.

Prince Trystane was dressed in mustard yellow clothing, fashion of the Dornish. It looked slightly big on his frame, as he would grow into it as he continued to practice with a sword. His hair was tamed as much as possible, but as they were Rhoynish it was rather difficult to contain the mess of curls that had sprung from their scalps as babes. Prince Trystane seemed to have a hesitant smile upon his face as he led his betrothed to the feast.

Princess Myrcella was beautiful, hair of spun gold curled prettily. She wore a dress of gold, that was modest enough. It was fashioned like that of King's Landing, Arianne would have to get the girl more used to the freer fashions of Dorne. While she was a girl of nine namedays and she would not be wearing anything too revealing, looser, freer dresses would stop her from growing too hot. As it was, Arianne noticed a slight pink tinge to the girl's skin that was from the sun.

"Princess Myrcella," Arianne greeted her. "I hope you are enjoying Dorne," Arianne's eyes then drifted to the handsome knight behind the Princess who stared straight ahead.

"Oh, I am," Princess Myrcella had a large, childish grin on her face. "I think Dorne is beautiful, Princess Arianne. I am grateful to be here."

How many times must the girl have rehearsed those words? "Come along then," Arianne urged. "It is your duty to escort your betrothed into the feast," she reminded her brother. Both of them blushed, a youthful colour forming onto their cheeks as Prince Trystane offered his arm.

"They will make beautiful children," she heard her cousin say from behind her as the two of them headed into the hall. The knight followed closely and Arianne watched him.

"I have to agree," she said as they followed the two of them to the head table. "Will you be sitting with us?"

"I would not miss it," Nym grinned. "However, I do not think my youngest sisters will be joining the feast. They will be spending time with Father and Ellaria before they leave."

"And Obara?"

"You know she loathes these things," Nym shrugged her shoulders. "But she may show, curiosity."

Yes, Obara was very curious despite herself. Arianne came to the table, sitting down at the head as her brother sat beside her and her cousin sat on her other side. There was a place left for Princess Myrcella's knight, who looked out of place in his clunky metal armour as he sat down. There were another two places, beside Nym, that were left for her two sisters Tyene and Obara. Tyene would most likely be late, as it was often in her nature to be late. It was unknown if Obara would show herself, but there was always a place left for her just in case.

Her eyes studied Ser Arys Oakheart, he was handsome enough. She smirked, peering at him over the rim of her goblet. "Cousin," Nym leaned close to whisper in her ear. "You are most obvious."

"Do you think he notices?" Arianne turned to look at her cousin.

"No," Nym broke off a piece of bread and placed it in her mouth. "I do not think he could notice any form of seduction. He looks rather… _boring_. Even if he is somewhat comely."

"Hm," Arianne tilted her head to the side.

"But I suppose, if anyone can manage to seduce such a stiff knight," Nym's eyes flickered over the man. "Then I suppose it would be you."

"I rather hope he will be stiff," Arianne purred, before flicking her eyes to her cousin. The two of them began to laugh together, bent over their goblets of wine as eyes turned to them in the hall.

"Excuse me," Prince Trystane leaned over the table to speak with his sister. "Will there be dancing after the feast?" He asked, looking around at the tables. "I want to ask Princess Myrcella if she would like to dance."

"There will be dancing," she suddenly held up her hand flicking it to the right to have her palm face upwards. A smooth tune filled with seductive beats of a drum filled every crevice of the hall, Arianne was appreciative of music even if she had no talent of her own.

"Thank you, Princess Arianne," her brother turned stiffly to his betrothed before standing. He offered her his hand, "Princess Myrcella, would you like to dance?"

Princess Arianne thought the tune a little inappropriate for the children, so she shook her head. The tune changed to something softer, "Yes, Prince Trystane." Princess Myrcella said, getting up from her seat.

Them leaving to dance had Arianne standing, she then moved around the table to stand behind Princess Myrcella's chair. She wrapped her hand around the top, standing close enough to the knight that he would feel her body heat. He appeared tense as he watched the two dance.

"They look wonderful together, do they not?" Princess Arianne purred, leaning closer to him to allow her breath to brush against the back of his neck.

"Excuse me, Princess Arianne," the man stood suddenly, but did not look at her. "I must excuse myself." She watched, shocked as he stalked quickly out of the hall.

Blinking, she looked over at her cousin who raised her goblet to her, mockingly.

* * *

"So it did not work out with Ser Oakheart?" Tyene asked as they strode through the gardens, it was night and the feast had long been over.

"He seems resistant to my charms," she rolled her eyes.

"I do believe it is the first man that is telling you no," Tyene teased. "Most men would be honoured to have you even attempt to seduce them."

"Well, this man seems intent on avoiding me," Arianne rolled her eyes.

"What a strange man," Tyene paused. "Perhaps he is into men. What do you think Nymeria?"

"No," her older cousin shook her head. "The way his eyes linger on your breasts," she said pointedly to Arianne, "I would say that he is inclined to like women."

"He just holds strongly to his vows," Arianne rolled her shoulders back. "It should not be too hard to convince him to ignore his vows."

"Hm," Nymeria shrugged her shoulders. "You will just have to work on your seduction. I think you should approach him subtly, so he will not scare easily."

"Make him for in love with you," Tyene suddenly suggested, her eyes wide with delight. "Love is something he will forsake his vows for."

"A knight who fell in love with a princess and forsook his vows," Arianne raised a brow. "It sounds like something out of a song."

"And if it is romantic enough a song will be written," Tyene shrugged her shoulders. "I am glad there are less expectations for me to get married. I fear that marriage would stifle my spirit."

"I am not talking marriage to the man!" Arianne scoffed, "I do not need marriage. Not yet at least."

"Hm, I suppose that is one thing your father will always have control over," Nymeria said as they continued to walk through the gardens. "Who you will marry."

"Do not remind me," Arianne glowered as they walked further into the gardens, closer to the weirwood trees that were no longer prayed to.

"I cannot help but remind you," Nymeria shrugged her shoulders. "It is something that is on our mind constantly, whether you will be married off and we will hardly get to see you."

"If your father sends you to marry something not in Dorne…" Tyene clicked her tongue. "I will have poison packed among your small clothes."

Arianne threw her head back and let out a loud, careless laugh. It made her look younger, it released her soul of some of the heaviness she had been feeling. "I thank you," she said as she bumped her cousin, they threaded their arms together. "But I fear they will know if my husband died so suddenly."

"Then we pray you are not married off so soon," Nymeria said as she came to a pause. "Why have we come to the weirwood trees?"

"I do not know…" Arianne was confused. They meant little to her, she had spent no time with them previously. They did not rip them out as they were rather beautiful, though their faces appeared to be weeping sometimes.

"Strange," Tyene said as she looked around the area they had come to.

The warm wind blew her hair around her face, _"Arianne_." Someone whispered and she turned around, a frown on her face.

"Did either of you say something?" She then asked her cousins, looking up at the both of them who towered over her due to her short stature.

"I said nothing," Nymeria said as she began to circle around the largest weirwood tree that was in the centre.

"I did not say anything either," Tyene frowned at her cousin who began moving closer to the trees.

"Oh," Arianne frowned, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. "I thought I had heard my name being called. But…" she moved closer to the tree.

"Do not touch it," Nymeria called, "I do not think it would be wise to touch the tree."

"Hm," Arianne stepped away from it. "Perhaps we should head back to the keep?"

"Good idea," Nymeria called for Tyene who came away from one of the roots of the tree.

Arianne stood, concern on her features as she stared at the trees. "Arianne," she heard Tyene's voice, but she sounded so far away.

" _Princess Arianne,"_ a strange, disembodied voice said and Arianne straightened, looking around. But there was nothing there, nothing that indicated someone was whispering to her. _"Come closer,"_ something urged but what?

"Arianne!" She heard someone shout but they sounded so far away. Arianne found herself moving closer to the largest weirwood tree, doing nothing but staring at the face on the tree.

" _Closer, closer, closer!"_ The whisper grew harsher, louder as she continued to step toward the tree. She could hear thundering, which she gathered was her heart and she could feel nothing but excitement wrapped around her body. It rustled within the trees, whatever wrapped around her seemed to attempt to comfort her.

"Arianne," someone hissed, grabbing her arm and yanking her away. Immediately the warm feeling left her as she met the harsh eyes of her cousin Nymeria.

"Nym," Arianne blinked rapidly. "Are you okay?"

"We were calling you," Tyene came up to them. "But you weren't listening to us."

A little overwhelmed, Arianne tossed a suspicious glare toward the weirwood trees. "Right then," she said quickly, "Perhaps we should get out of here."

"I could not agree more," Tyene shivered. "I do not like this place. I don't know how those barbarians in the North can pray to _trees_."

"Come on," Arianne really didn't think it would be wise to insult the Gods of the North – or their trees. She could not figure out why, but for some reason it felt as if they were _alive_. It was really rather scary, it left her shivering as she left the weirwoods.

They entered the keep, Arianne leaving her cousins and heading up the stairs to her chambers. Once inside she closed the door softly, pressing her back against the wood and looking up at the ceiling. Rolling her neck, her thoughts turned to the weirwoods. It was rather confusing; how could they have spoken to her? She had to have been imagining it, why would the Gods of the North speak to her? She barely followed the Rhoynish Gods or the Faith of the Seven, in fact she believed that Gods were rather ineffective and held no bearing on her life.

She stripped herself of her dress, it fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. She moved to her vanity, pulling her bangles off and placing them down on her dresser. Pulling off her earrings, she looked at herself in the mirror and pressed her lips together. Removing herself of the rest of her jewellery, she then rid herself of her makeup and released her hair. While she could have used a servant to prepare her for bed, she was shaken after what had happened in the gardens and she wanted to be on her own, away from others.

Slipping out of her smalls, she headed to her bed where she ran her fingers over the silk sheets. There was nothing more seductive to Arianne than silk sheets. She slipped into her bed, resting her head on the silk pillows and turning her head to loo out at the crescent moon that was high in the sky. She rolled onto her side, resting her hand under her head as her thoughts drifted. The weather was hot and humid, but for some reason a cool breeze flowed through her room and she turned onto her back with a frown, shoving her arms under the covers.

" _Arianne,"_ something whispered again and she pulled her brows together.

"Who's there?" She sat up, not bothering with her modesty. She let the blankets pull around her lap as she looked around.

" _Arianne…"_ the voice grew more familiar, more feminine. Arianne frowned, looking around as if she was about to find the person who was speaking to her. But there was no one in her chambers, it was empty except for her.

"Stop it!" She cried out, "Stop it!" She looked around the room, "You are not my Gods! You should not speak to me!"

She then proceeded to bury her head in her pillows, trying to forget the voices.

" _The Bear and the Rose will come…"_

Arianne was not going to get any sleep, she tried to block out the voice. She had heard of magic, of the stories told my generations. She knew of the Andals and the First Men, their old magic. So… why? She wondered, why did they reach out to her? A Princess of Dorne. It made no sense. Eventually, she rolled over onto her back staring up at the ceiling as the voices seemed to disappear slowly from her bedroom.

But it still left Arianne sleep deprived and annoyed.


	4. IV

**When I was originally writing this story and I began writing it, there was no Allyria Dayne. I only added her in a few chapters ago and slid this chapter in, just because I have this idea pertaining to her throughout the story.**

 **I hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for reading and I appreciate all your reviews.**

* * *

 **IV**

 **ALLYRIA**

 **AN** unread letter sat on her desk and Allyria found herself much too anxious to read it. Would it tell of the death of her betrothed, the death of her nephew? So she did not begin to touch the letter, instead standing closer to the window and turning her head over to look out at the ocean. A sign of her betrothed and nephew returning to her would put her in greater spirits, perhaps she would not feel so alone if she could marry and have children of her own. But it was doubtful, and unlikely to happen with her betrothed so far away.

"My lady," she turned her head slowly as one of her servants poked her head into the room. "A rider has arrived."

"A rider?" Allyria did not often receive new visitors.

"Yes," the servant cleared their throat. "A sand snake."

"A sand snake?" What would one of the infamous Sand Snakes be doing visiting her? "I must greet them," she was flustered, barefoot and her hair a mess as she did not plan on receiving visitors. But she flew passed the servant and down the hall, heading to the steps that would lead to the front of the keep.

A woman with a shaved hair and black skin stood, dressed in leather trousers and a loose tunic. Allyria did not know the names of the Sand Snakes, all she knew was that they were a force to be reckoned with. Would she be called to Sunspear? Allyria wondered, there was hope in her heart that she would become one of the ladies for Princess Arianne Martell. Perhaps she would not be so bored then, and perhaps she would allow herself to make friends.

"Forgive me," Allyria said carefully. "But I do not often receive visitors."

Most believed Starfall was haunted, they gave it a wide birth when travelling through Dorne. The tower her sister had thrown herself off was kept boarded up, and servants often gossiped that a young, sorrowful woman could be seen. Allyria did not believe it, and she had not witnessed such a thing either. She did not want to place her belief in what she could not see. She curled her fingers around the silk of her dress as the woman in front of her pressed her full lips together and studied Allyria carefully.

"I do not mind," she answered suddenly. "But do you have food prepared? Not to be so forward."

"Ah, yes," Allyria turned to her curious servants. "Please prepared lunch for…?" She turned in question to the woman.

"Sarella."

"Sarella," Allyria nodded. "I will also be joining her." The servants quickly jumped, "Is there a reason you have arrived?"

"I am only travelling," Sarella answered. "I wanted to see more of Dorne and the world."

"Is there a reason?"

"No reason," Sarella answered casually. "But my father got to do such a thing when he was young. Why can I not?" A smile then appeared on her face, "It seemed I inherited much more of my mother than her appearance."

"Yes," Allyria smiled at her. "It is good to have a visitor, I have been lonely with just the servants. I have wanted to visit Sunspear, but I have not wished to leave Starfall alone."

"I'm sure my cousin, Princess Arianne, would accept a young lady into her entourage," Sarella ran her eyes over Allyria. "But she may wish to corrupt you a bit."

"Corrupt?" Allyria stared at Sarella with doe-like, violet-blue eyes and was quite intimidated by such a thing. She curled her hands around her dress and stared up at the woman.

"Corrupt," Sarella said but did not explain further. It left Allyria feeling curious as she led the woman through the halls to the dining hall where a large table sat. She did not often take her meals in the dining hall, as it was so big and made her feel lonelier than ever. Inside the dining hall, three large windows that overlooked the sea and curtains pushed to the side. It was a lovely room. She imagined when it was full it was even lovelier, but she had never seen the dining hall full of people.

They sat on the seats closer to viewing the windows outside. Allyria fiddled with her cutlery and curled her toes on the thick rug beneath her feet. She should have put some shoes on, but she had been so curious about the visitor that she had not bothered. She placed her hands flat on the dark wood of the table and looked at Sarella who was sitting beside her and was staring at the wood in front of her. The woman was beautiful, Allyria thought as Sarella looked up at the food that began coming toward them.

"Oh, this is too much," Sarella said and shook her head. "I do not need so much."

"Sorry," Allyria apologised. "But I did not send for this much," Allyria sent a curious look to her servants. "But what we cannot eat will go to the servants and the smallfolk."

"You do that after every meal?" Sarella stared at the young woman.

"Well, yes," Allyria shrugged her shoulders. "I am always served far more than I could possibly eat. It is only right that instead of spoiling, the food goes to those that need it the most. Do you not think?" She looked in the direction of her servants who nodded their heads, murmuring in agreement.

"And you are holding this seat for your nephew?" Sarella suddenly said, "The young Lord Edric Dayne?"

"Yes," Allyria furrowed her brows. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You can only hope that the young lord and his wife will do the same," Sarella Sand leaned back in her seat. "Otherwise there will be unhappy smallfolk and servants, there many even cause dissention between the two of you."

"Oh, I don't think that will happen," she shook her head. "Us Daynes have always provided for our smallfolk, Ned will be no different."

There was hope in her voice, she did believe in her nephew. There were four years between them, they could be siblings rather than the three older siblings she'd had that she did not remember. But in the days since her nephew had set off to follow her betrothed, she could barely remember him. His letters came infrequently, which bothered her but that was a lot more than she could expect. He could never send letters, then she would really feel isolated and that she knew nothing about her betrothed.

"This is good," Sarella complimented, looking over to the servants who smiled.

"Yes, thank you," Allyria turned to look over at her servants who then nodded to leave. "Why did you decide to visit Starfall?"

"Father often spoke affectionately of Ser Arthur Dayne, how the two of them would play together in the Water Gardens," a smile appeared on Sarella's face as she spoke of Prince Oberyn. Allyria wished to visit the Water Gardens, she had wanted to go to them when she had been younger. But it had never happened, she had remained in Starfall for all her life.

And she would not leave until her betrothed, Beric Dondarrion, returned from wherever he had decided to go.

"Would you mind if I stay the night?" Sarella then asked, leaning back in her seat. "I will be gone in the morning; my ship will set sail for Essos once we are well rested."

"Of course," Allyria could not help but smile at the other woman. "I would not mind if you stay." It would allow her to finally have a conversation with someone who she had not been around her entire life. Someone who had seen more of the world, who was going to see even more of it."

"I thank you," Sarella Sand leaned back in her seat. "Now why is it you've been stuck in Starfall your whole life?"

"I don't know…" Allyria furrowed her eyebrows together. "I just never left and there was never any need to go to Sunspear."

"Strange."

"I have to hold the seat for Ned," Allyria then said. "And once he returns with my betrothed…" she shrugged her shoulders. "I will go with him to Blackhaven."

"That's not much of a life," Sarella Sand frowned. "Living for two men, unable to live a life for yourself."

Allyria had never thought of living for the two of them. It was just the way her life had become, it was just who she was and it was just what happened with her life. She was sure had her betrothal at the age of eleven had been a necessity as her father had been dying. She clasped her hands even tighter around her cutlery and shrugged her shoulders, not bothering to think about it.

"This is the way my life is," she shrugged her shoulders. "I just accept it."

"That's not any way to live, Lady Allyria Dayne."

* * *

Ashara Dayne had been a great beauty, according to her servants and anyone she had met as a child. They had always likened her look to Ashara, never to her older brother Arthur. Which was fair, Arthur did have silver hair that he shared with Prince Rhaegar. But Allyria did not remember them, she had been born after they had fallen which had left her feeling rather empty as a child. There had been no way for her to understand it, but there had been an emptiness within her at the thought of never knowing either her brother or her sister.

Portraits remained of them in Starfall, Allyria had often found herself wondering into the portrait gallery to gaze upon them. Allyria had spent most of her childhood studying Ashara Dayne's portrait, the one taken of her before she left for King's Landing with Princess Elia Martell. Allyria was of age with her when she had left, and now she could see similarities between them. Their nose was the same, a small little button that was upturned and quite cute. They also had full lips with a prominent bow and the same haunting violet-blue eyes.

At least she carried a piece of her sister with her – her sister's looks.

"This is her?" Sarella Sand asked from behind Allyria, "This is Lady Ashara Dayne?"

"Yes," Allyria answered. "This is my older sister."

"She looks a lot like you," Sarella complimented. "None of my sisters look alike, I suppose we do all have different mothers. Our younger sisters look alike, those all mothered by Ellaria Sand."

"That is to be expected," Allyria's eyes studied Sarella Sand. "Do you wish you looked more like your sisters?"

"No," Sarella snorted. "It is a burden to have Tyene's golden hair, everyone wants to fuck her because of it. Nymeria is just _too_ beautiful and Obara looks more like a man than our own father does. I'm happy with my look."

"Then that is good then," Allyria smoothed her hands down her skirt. "I do not think I look much like Arthur."

"No," Sarella agreed. "But did Ser Arthur not look much like Prince Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"I don't know," Allyria answered honestly. "Mother and Father did not like to talk about them much. And I was only a child, I only heard about them in stories from my nursemaid." Her shoulders then slumped, "I'm sure Edric would know more than I do by now."

"I think you should travel to Sunspear," Sarella Sand finally said. "It is about time you get out of Starfall and see the world. It cannot be healthy for you to be stuck here, whilst everyone else enjoys their lives."

"But there is nothing for me out there," Allyria protested. But something whispered in her ear _you are needed out there_. But she could not know why. Turning her head quickly, she looked around, trying to discover who would have possibly whispered in her ear. She shivered, "I have to stay in Starfall."

"Why? It is not as if it is going anywhere."

Perhaps that was true, perhaps not much would change if she decided to leave. But there was something that curled in her belly, that made her feel sick at the idea of leaving. Allyria turned away from Sarella Sand, hoping not to reveal too much of her emotion on her face. Curling her hands around the silk of her dress, Allyria took a deep breath and bit down on her bottom lip. The marble ground beneath her bare feet was smooth and hard. She took two steps and turned her head slightly.

"Would you like to see more of Starfall?"

"I do," Sarella Sand said as Allyria turned to head out of the gallery.

They left and Allyria showed Sarella around, they moved into the large library where she spent most of her days. Not all the books were read, as there were many of them she had to get through and some she could not read. There were those written in High Valyrian which she had not learnt, and her Septa had refused to teach her as she claimed it was a language of heathens and Allyria should never learn the language.

How could it be a language of heathens? Allyria had often wondered. She knew the Targaryen dynasty was finished in Westeros, the house was ashes and now House Baratheon ruled over them all. With her hands in front of her, she came to a stop in front of one of the shelves she had cleared as Sarella moved to the shelf beside it, running long fingers over the spines of the books. She seemed to have a deep appreciation for the literature that was stored within the shelves.

"It is marvellous," Sarella commented. "Who collected these?"

"My father and oldest brother," Allyria explained as she lifted one of the books from the shelf. "Is the library not like this in Sunspear?"

"I do not know," Sarella admitted. "I never spent much time in the library."

"Oh," Allyria blinked. "Why?"

"Because there was never time to be in the library," Sarella rolled her eyes. "I was always following after my sisters or my cousin, trying to be like them. Father sometimes had me, watching over me and making sure I stayed out of some sort of trouble."

"Did you get into trouble much?"

"Not as often as my sisters or my cousin, but I had my fair amount," Sarella's teeth were so white when she smiled. Allyria almost had to stumble back at their brightness, she really was rather beautiful.

"Did you decide to leave because you got into trouble?"

"No, I just decided it was for me. Father understood, he had been the same way when he was younger, and he was wondering if any of us had developed his gene for travelling and exploring." She rolled back her shoulders, "But he did like to remember my mother fondly and claimed I was much like her, he has urged me to find her."

"Do you know her?"

"No. But I know of her, she is a pirate who frequents the Summer Isles and that is where I am headed."

"The Summer Isles," Allyria's eyes lit with wonder. "I have not heard much about it."

"Father has told me all that he could," Sarella placed the book back. "But even he does not know much of it. He said he and my mother never really did much talking about themselves."

"Oh," Allyria's cheeks coloured as she turned away from Sarella, looking down at the books she was standing next to.

Silence fell over the two of them as Allyria tried to push the thoughts out of her head. Reaching up with one hand, she tucked a curl behind her ear and looked over at Sarella Sand who put one of the books back. The older woman stood tall, one of the books open as she read through it. Her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be enjoying the book. So Allyria rolled back her shoulders and bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if she should interrupt the woman to ask if she wanted to see more of Starfall.

"There is much more, would you like to see it all?" Allyria asked carefully.

"Oh, yes," Sarella closed the book quickly, moving to place it back on the shelf. But before she did, she turned to Allyria. "May I borrow this book for the night? It's very interesting."

"Yeah, of course," Allyria nodded her head as she moved toward the doors. "But there is still much to show you of Starfall. It is rather large."

"It is," Sarella laughed as she followed after Allyria, following her closely as the two of them moved out of the library.

Sarella was showed to her chambers which she was pleased with. They were a smaller set of chambers, but as the woman was only staying for the night Allyria really did not want to give her a bigger set as there would be more for the servants to clean. After she had let the Sand Snake explore the chambers she would be spending the night in for a bit, they left the room. They headed through the halls of Starfall, Sarella would stop every now and then to look at something, or to stare out at the ocean that surrounded Starfall.

The two of them came to the doors that led to the gardens of Starfall, and the one, small weirwood tree in the centre. It was nothing special, Allyria had often not thought much of it as she did not worship trees. She did not worship anything, she did not believe that she needed to worship them. It was odd for her to step out into the ground with her feet bare, she curled her toes around the stones as the two of them continued to walk toward the gardens.

* * *

"The gardens are beautiful," Sarella complimented as they continued to walk through the gardens.

"Oh, thank you," Allyria rubbed her hands together. It felt odd with the ground beneath her feet, but she continued to move through the gardens.

"They are not maintained, are they?" Sarella asked.

Allyria frowned, looking around the gardens. "Most of them are wild flowers, yes," she cleared her throat. "But it is what my mother liked, and I did not want it to change. Perhaps when Ned comes home, he will decide to change the gardens. But I like them the way they are."

"It is beautiful," Sarella said. "Just a little wild and messy, different from the gardens I'm used to."

Allyria looked around. The gardens had grown messier since when she was a child and her mother had cared for them delicately, whispering to the plants as though they could hear her. The gardener was not the gentlest of men, but he did try to keep them in as good enough shape as he could. Allyria had tried to be like her mother, but she had killed one of the plants and had realised she did not have an affinity for plants and nature. So left it to the gardener, at least he knew what he was doing.

"My mother was the one who cared for the gardens," Allyria explained. "After she died, I attempted but realised that I would never be able to look after them in the way she had. So a gardener was hired instead, and whilst he does not have the delicate touch Mother had, he does enough to keep them alive."

"Apologies if it seemed as though I was judging," a grin appeared on Sarella's face. "I just meant that there is a wild beauty in these gardens that much of Dorne would appreciate, especially my father."

"Oh," Allyria nodded her head. "It would be an honour for Prince Oberyn to visit Starfall. But I would not know why he would."

"My father likes to travel, I will write a letter to him," Sarella smiled. "And it must be long since he has laid eyes upon Starfall, I'd imagine he would like to visit again. He is becoming rather nostalgic with age, you see."

Allyria did not, but she nodded in agreement.

"So I think he would enjoy a visit," Sarella nodded her head. "Perhaps it would convince you to come to Sunspear. I will write to my cousin, urging her to invite you."

"Oh, you do not have to," Allyria insisted. "I do not think Princess Arianne should be the one to write me."

"Do not worry," Sarella waved her hand. "Arianne will welcome you. It is high time she received another lady, she often loses them as they marry. You are young and betrothed already, but it does not seem as though your betrothed is keen to return?"

Allyria winced, it was a painful truth.

"Then it would do you good to get out of this place, to see more of the world," Sarella smiled at her. "You are much too beautiful to be locked up in a tower to waste your days away, Lady Allyria Dayne."

The words seemed familiar to her, as if they had been said to her before but she could not place them. Rubbing her hands together she pushed the thought out of her mind and looked around the garden to the sad weirwood that sat in the middle of the garden. It had never been impressive to her, and she had no idea why the Northerners worshipped them. But as she stared at it, for the first time in her life she saw something _more_.

The tree seemed to rise up and grow taller, no longer was it weeping and sad as it had been before. It took Allyria's breath away, as she stared and watched the branches shake themselves out, red leaves falling to the ground around the door. She stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of her as she stared at the tree. Leaves crunched under her feet as she moved closer to the tree. Frowning up at it, she stared at the leaves that seemed to grow even more vibrant in colour. It was beautiful, unlike anything she had ever seen.

 _Child…_

A voice whispered – in her mind, or around her? Allyria could not be sure, the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

 _Come to us, child…_

Allyria frowned, coming even closer to the tree and gasping. She noticed a face within the tree which was so strange and odd, her eyes widened even further and she jumped back. Her ankle hit one of the roots and she went down, letting out a little yelp as she hit the ground. It knocked the wind out of her and she found herself staring up at the leaves and branches above her.

"Lady Allyria?" She heard the worry in Sarella's voice, "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, breathing heavily. "The wind has been knocked out of me. I did not expect…"

"Did not expect what?"

"The change…" she whispered. "It is remarkable…"

"Change?"

"Yes, can you not see?" Allyria asked as she stared up at the tree, a smile appearing on her lips. She did not see the confusion on Sarella's face behind her, the odd look the Sand Snake was giving her. "It has changed but I do not know why…"

Reaching out, Allyria placed her hand on one of the exposed roots and let out a gasp. Her body lurched forward and her eyes closed. But she still saw, things that did not make any sense as she seemed to move through the strange world she found herself within.

 _The Star is needed…_

 _You are needed…_

" _Lady Allyria, I hope you are warm," she heard a man say._

" _It is cold here, I had not expect it to be so."_

" _Well, it is the North, my lady," there was a warmth to him that filled her with warmth that the coat around her shoulders did not seem to do._

"Lady Allyria!" A voice cried and hands shook her shoulders. Allyria gasped, sitting up and staring at Sarella Sand who was crouched over her. "Oh thank fuck." Sarella said, "I thought something had happened to you."

"I…" Allyria frowned as she slowly pushed Sarella's arms off her shoulder. She then stood slowly, legs shaking as she looked to the tree. It still looked as vibrant as ever, but it confused her.

 _Got to Sunspear…_

 _Find the sun…_

A voice said so suddenly that Allyria froze, "I should go to Sunspear."

"Sunspear?" Sarella peered at her in concern. "Please, Lady Allyria. I do not think that you should be going anywhere. You seem to be sick, perhaps we should call your Maester."

"No," Allyria insisted, reaching out to grasp Sarella's hands. "You have been correct. I should go to Sunspear, I should not put my life on hold because my betrothed and my nephew are in Westeros. I also have a life to live, and it should not be kept here."

"Oh," Sarella nodded her head slowly. "If you insist. But you will travel alone?"

"I will travel with my Septa and a few guards, we will take to the sea," Allyria smiled widely. She was pleased with herself. Still unsure about what she had been shown, she did know that it meant a lot to her.

It was rather a surprise for the Septa when Allyria burst into Starfall, demanding for a raven to be sent to Sunspear and her belongings to be packed. But a man was sent to find a ship that would take the young lady to her desired destination. Whoever had shown her the vision, who had urged her she trusted. Allyria did not believe that she was being led astray.

"You are really going to Sunspear?" Sarella asked as Allyria watched the maids pack her belongings.

"Yes, in the morning Septa Mara said." Allyria was giddy, "I do believe it is where I need to go."

"Hitting your head suddenly changed your decision?" Sarella's dark brows rose. "How odd."

"It just feels right," Allyria said, her heart pounding in her chest. "Perhaps it is the same feeling that you feel?"

"I want to explore the world, you did not want to," Sarella shook her head. "But perhaps it is best that you head to Sunspear. My cousin will be a good mentor for you."

"I do hope so, I have heard so much good about Princess Arianne," Allyria grinned.

"But do not let that fool you," Sarella warned. "My cousin is not all good. In fact, she can be quite terrible if given the chance. It is why my uncle, Prince Doran, and her do not get along quite so much."

"That is a shame," Allyria said as she finally felt anxiety settle in about her decision. "But I need to go, Sarella, apologies if you do not understand. But I feel as though something is calling me there. So I must go."


	5. V

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I've just been so busy with uni and life at the moment so I'm so sorry.**

 **But here is my chapter, it is my gift to you because it's my birthday.**

 **Enjoy the chapter, xx**

* * *

 **V**

 **DACEY**

 **RIDING** from wherever she was to Highgarden was a mission. She was hungry and her ass hurt, she was still in a lot of pain also. She should've just ridden North, told the Old Gods to fuck themselves and barricaded herself on Bear Island. It would be years before news would reach them, probably something awful how the Lannister fuckers had taken over the whole of Westeros. Every time Dacey saw someone with blonde hair she felt the urge to stab straight through them with her sword, just on principal.

For the King in the North and Lady Catelyn Stark.

Wherever she was, the road was long and she was still determined to find a town. Hopefully she was on her way to Highgarden through the Riverlands, the Westerlands sounded like the worst kind of place for her to go. But Dacey had no idea where she was, she had no idea how to get to Highgarden so she was winging it. Gripping the reins, her stomach growled as she continued to move along the road and had to clench her teeth together. Damn, she was hungry but she had to ration the food given to her by the witch.

The Gods could go fuck themselves, Dacey thought to herself as she continued to move. They were sending her on some wild chase to find the _Rose_. That could be anyone, could they not be a little more specific? It was not like she was going to cart around a little old lady for the entirety of her trip, Lady Olenna Tyrell, to Dorne. Nor was she about to steal Margaery Tyrell like some sort of wildling heathen from beyond the Wall. She was going to go in there, announce she was Dacey Mormont and they would likely put her to a sword.

Well, if the Gods really wanted her to do their bidding they'd make sure she didn't die.

"Miss," she looked up from where she had been staring, blinking slightly as she looked down to meet the eyes of a young man. He appeared concerned. "You appear to be falling asleep on the back of your horse."

"I'm… not," but her voice was a slur. Had she fallen asleep on top of her horse?

"Father caught sight of you," he motioned to a carriage heading the same way as her. "He would like to offer you a place to rest."

"I don't have any coin," she said to him, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"No," the young man shook his head. "We don't want your coin."

Reaching down, she pulled out a dagger, "I will not be raped either."

The young man stepped back, holding up his hands. "We do not wish to harm you. We only wish to give you a place to rest your head for the night."

Dacey weighed up her options, she would have a bed, food and at least know where she was. "Alright," she straightened her shoulders. "Thank you, you are very kind."

She was led by the young man and his father to their farm, where they were greeted by three people, a woman and two young girls. The woman embraced the young man, obviously she was his wife and the two girls who raced to hug their father and then grandfathers were his daughters. Dacey stood off to the side, feeling unsteady on her feet as she gripped the side of her horse and followed them closer to the house. She watched each of them, eyes narrowed in suspicion just in case they were Lannister spies set to strike out at her.

But how would they have known she survived? She had been placed in a pile set to be burned. She had crawled out and been saved by some strange witch. To all it would appear that Dacey Mormont had died at that horrific wedding with her King. Dacey's heart was heavy, she felt tears prick in her eyes and she wanted a place where she could mourn in peace. Alysane would be set to take over after their mother died, not Dacey. Heart heavy, she looked up at the young woman who had cautiously walked toward her.

The woman had to be older than Dacey, perhaps the young man was the same age as Dacey or younger. But the woman appeared weathered, she already had wrinkles forming around her eyes. She had soft blue eyes and hair the colour of wheat that looked like it needed a good wash. But Dacey thought perhaps she needed a good wash too, she couldn't think of the last time she had a good soak in a nice tub. She watched the woman who walked toward her wearily, the two men were already unloading their cart with the two little girls.

"You are more than welcome to say," the woman said to Dacey. "We do not often to get strangers around these parts."

"These parts?" Dacey asked curiously, "Where are we?"

"In the Westerlands," the woman explained. "Close to the Golden Tooth."

Dacey almost cursed, of course she was in the fucking Westerlands. "Right," she said tightly, pressing her lips together. "Thank you."

"You do not need to thank us," the woman than urged her to head inside. "Your belongings will be brought inside, my husband and goodfather will take care of your horse."

"Thank you," but she still felt anxious being parted from her horse. Who had no name. But still.

"Then come inside," the woman urged. "I have dinner prepared."

"Is it late?" Dacey looked up at the sky, the sun was setting. She had not realised it was so late.

"Yes," the woman said as Dacey followed her into the small home. "It is unusual to see a woman traveller, especially travelling alone and so… dishevelled. Were you attacked by those barbarians?" The woman appeared worried, her eyes widened as she reached out to grasp Dacey's hand. "You do not need to worry, they will not harm you here."

"Who?" Dacey's question was not answered as the door opened and the rest of the family shuffled in.

The family said nothing, Dacey was seated at the table beside the wife. She did not know their names, but as she was staying for the night she did not think she needed to know their names. She pursed her lips together as stew and bread that was almost stale was placed in front of her. Thanking the family, she was even surprised when ale was poured into a clay mug. She nodded, bringing the mug up to her mouth and looked around the table.

"Why have you been travelling alone?" The older man at the table suddenly asked, "Have you lost your household due to the rebellion?"

"I…" Dacey had to be careful. She was in the Westerlands, if they knew she had been part of Robb's army they would likely kill her, or turn her over to Lannister forces.

"You do not wish to talk about it?" The woman was sympathetic, "We understand."

"Thank you," Dacey said as she picked up some of her stew with a claw spoon, eating some of the meat and looking around at the family.

"You have to be careful as you are a woman travelling alone," the young man frowned. "Soldiers are unkind to women, even one with such weapons on your person."

"I can take care of myself," she then said, voice hard.

"Of course," the woman sent a sharp look to her husband. "It is worrying, however. The forces of the Young Wolf push closer every day, it is dangerous for us."

"They're beasts," her husband spat. "They do not care who they slaughter just to get to the Lannisters."

"The Young Wolf does not understand how we suffered under Robert's Rebellion," the older man spoke up. "No one ever thinks of the smallfolk."

Dacey felt her hand clench tight around her spoon. Robb had not been a monster, he had only wanted vengeance for Lord Eddard Stark's death and for the North to be free. None of them had wanted to bow to Lannister rule, to know an inbred bastard sat on the throne and grew more crazed by the passing minutes. She was angered, but at the same time she could not blame them. Robb Stark would seem like a monster, and six and ten years before people had suffered in the rebellion.

"I am sorry you suffer," Dacey then said, meeting all of their eyes.

"You do not need to be sorry," the woman said. "My husband and goodfather like to remind others of the war."

"They shouldn't forget it," the older man scowled. "Look what they are doing to our country. We have been torn apart."

"We were torn apart long ago," Dacey decided to say. "When the Targaryens stepped foot on our soil with their dragons."

"Maybe so," the man sniffed.

"Please, eat," the woman begged them. "The food will get cold and I do not want to hear your complaints."

* * *

Dacey helped the woman with cleaning up the dishes and the rest of the food. The woman seemed grateful as she scrubbed the clay bowls and spoke to Dacey.

"I am sorry for my husband and goodfather," the woman apologised again. "The war has hit us hard, all us smallfolk. Our neighbours were murdered, their daughter raped by the forces of the Young Wolf."

She didn't believe it, Robb would never allow them to do such a thing. But she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to reveal herself or deny the suffering of these people.

"I am sorry you had to go through that," Dacey apologised.

"You do not need to apologise," the woman smiled at her. "It is not as if you were involved."

Oh, but she had been. Fighting alongside Robb Stark, fighting for the North and not considering how the smallfolk would fear them. They had been so caught up in defeating the Lannisters and defending Ned Stark they had not stopped to think of the little people. The little people who were left vulnerable and alienated, who lacked the basic necessities to survive and were murdered all for being in the way.

What would Robb Stark do? He would apologise to the smallfolk, punish those who had hurt them and offer reparations. Or was that just the fantasy that was made about Robb? Would he really care for some scared farmers in the Westerlands? Or would they never cross his mind? Dacey was horribly conflicted, she did not know what to think but she did not like smearing her King's name in her thoughts. Her King who had been betrayed and killed, she along with him. Heart beating inside her chest, she dried another one of the clay bowls the woman handed her.

"You seem to be thinking hard," the woman observed. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Are you married?" The woman asked so suddenly Dacey was a little startled and almost dropped her bowls.

"No."

"Oh," the woman frowned and took half the bowls from Dacey. "It is just odd a woman is travelling alone. Are you a widow?"

"I've never married," she answered honestly. She could marry but Mormont women didn't marry, and if she did marry she would have to love the man a great deal before she could consider marriage.

Dacey was also her mother's heir, she could not become a lady of a keep elsewhere. When her mother died she would take over House Mormont, especially as her cousin Jorah Mormont was in exile across the Narrow Sea and had no children. If Dacey had children they would be her heirs, but if not she would likely choose one of Alysane's children to be her heirs. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, her eyes flicked over the woman who bent to put away her pots and bowls in one of the many cupboards in the small kitchen of the home.

"And your father allowed you not to marry?" The woman frowned, "You are rather young, I suppose."

"Yes," Dacey looked down at her hands, dropping the cloth she had been using to dry the pots and bowls.

"I'm sure there is still time for you to marry," the woman pressed her lips together. "But you need to be careful, these men could ruin you."

"I do not need to worry about that," she waved her hand flippantly. "I have other things I must do. I need to find my mother, I am worried she has been lost in the war."

"It is a devastating war," the woman looked down. "I fear for the life of my children, those in the North are savages."

Dacey pressed her lips together tightly, "I am sure they are."

"You have not come across them?"

"I do not believe so," she shook her head. "I've stayed close to the roads, away from danger to make sure that I am safe."

"That is rather good," the woman nodded her head rather slow. "It is very dangerous out there."

"You have not received any troubles here?" Dacey asked rather curiously as she studied the woman.

"No, we have not," the woman then cleared his throat. "I suppose you know where you are sleeping?"

"Yes," Dacey nodded her head slowly. "I want to thank you all for giving me a place to rest."

"You do not need to thank us," the woman shook her head. "My husband said you looked rather worn on the road, he was worried. So he decided to ask you back to our home, he does not believe it is right for a woman to be travelling on her own."

"I appreciate it," she really did, she had learnt a lot in her stay.

The woman then nodded and left the kitchen, leaving Dacey in the small kitchen that was only lit by one candle in the corner that was beginning to disappear. Moving toward the candle, she grasped the candle and hissed as hot wax dripped on her hand. But she did not make a sound as she escaped the small house, moving to the barn where a bed had been put up for her. Blowing out the candle, she made her way to the top of the barn and placed herself onto the soft hay, pulling furs around her body.

Her thoughts flickered to the Old Gods, she wondered if they would come to her in her dreams. Would they urge her to go to Highgarden, as she was? Scratching the side of her neck, she burrowed herself further into the hay in an attempt to get warmer. It was cold, winter would soon be around the corner and the North was unprotected. At least, the Starks were no longer in the North as the Boltons would soon take over. It made Dacey mad, so she would follow the Old Gods as they would help her to set the North to rights.

" _Dacey," she glanced up at Smalljon Umber who crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the many trees that surrounded them._

" _What is it?" She asked as she looked back to stoking the fire._

" _Where's your Mother?" Smalljon gazed at her curiously._

" _Why do you need to know?" She looked up at him, cocking her head to the side. "Do you wish to become the father to another one of her children?"_

" _No," he rolled his eyes. "I was only curious, I thought you would come with your mother to Robb's army."_

" _Mother will be coming," Dacey then said to the man. "There are just things she must do in Bear Island first."_

" _Ah," Smalljon nodded his head as he moved away from the tree. He then came to crouch in front of her._

" _I am not one of the whores our King brought with him or have found their way here," Dacey turned her back to Smalljon. "I am not a woman you can amuse yourself with."_

" _I know this," he said but she did not turn to him. Instead she lifted her water skin, taking a drink and avoiding looking at the man._

Dacey could not say that she had loved Smalljon Umber, but she had enjoyed his company. Sleeping with him had not been a chore, it had been fun for the two of them. It had also been a relaxant and something to take their mind off the war that was going on around them. But he was dead, as was so many others that she had come to get along with. As was her king, he was long dead by the Lannisters. She hoped the Gods were not leading her on a wild chase, she hoped that chase would lead her to killing the Lannisters.

Avenging her King.

Sitting up suddenly, she let her loose hair fall over her face. Pushing the brown strands out of her vision, she looked toward the window of the barn where the full moon was shining light into her window. Dacey placed her hands beside her and stared at the moon, she pushed herself up and moved toward the window. While she was tall, she was still not quite tall enough to peer out the window so she had to push herself up on her toes. Her hands rested on the window sill as she stared straight at the moon.

It shone brightly, she ended up squinting and turning away. Dacey then moved to sit down on the edge of the upstairs ledge of the barn. Her legs dangled down and she stared down into the dark barn, resting her head against one of the pillars that held up the barn. She then grasped some wine she had, sipping the wine as she let her legs swing back and forth. It stopped her from sleeping when she really needed the sleep, but it gave her precious moments to herself in a time when she needed them most.

* * *

Early in the morning, Dacey stood outside the small farm that belonged to the family who had taken her in the night before. "Thank you," she said to them as she gripped the reins of her horse.

"You do not need to thank us," the woman assured her. "We hope you get home safely."

"I will," Dacey assured them, eyes flickering between the family. "Once again, I thank you. I do hope that you will remain safe in the war," she did not want the family to suffer due to the selfishness of the noble class.

Of herself.

Throwing herself onto the top of her horse, she gripped the reins in her hands, nodded at the family and turned. She rode off from the farm, headed toward the road with determination in her body. She had to head to Highgarden and avoid the Lannisters, while the smallfolk had not known who she was it was still a risk that nobles would know. Dacey moved with her horse, feeling relaxed after the rest she had the night before. Heading to Highgarden would be difficult, but she was determined to make sure that she got there alive first and foremost.

Her thoughts turned to the rose the Old Gods had mentioned to her. There were multiple roses, House Tyrell was the one she would go to. Their sigil was a rose, and they were a powerful, wealthy family that ruled over the Reach. But which rose? It could not be Lord Mace Tyrell or his mother, Lady Olenna. They were much too old and it would be too dangerous. Then there were four left, four she would have to choose from to take wherever she was supposed to go. To the sun? Which was an odd clue, which bothered her.

It was unclear, but she gathered that the Old Gods did not want to make it easy. She just had to worship gods that were fond of riddles. A smile crossed her face as she thought of them, the Old Gods that had comforted her since she was a girl. They had finally spoken to her, in a way that they did not speak to others. Dacey wondered if they had ever spoken to her mother, or had they not needed to? Perhaps they spoke to her because of Robb's death, perhaps they had kept her alive to make sure the North was free.

Dacey's thoughts turned to Robb Stark, who was dead and had been dead for a while. Had he not married the Lady Jeyne Westerling he would have been free to destroy the Lannisters. Or would he? Lord Frey had betrayed them, he had turned his back on his king to swear fealty to the enemy. He would have done that anyway, perhaps, had Robb Stark married one of his many family members or not. Dacey could only be glad that she had not married, that Robb Stark had not tried to ensure loyalty by marrying off more of his people.

The road was bare as she made her way through the Westerlands. She felt so wary, tense as she continued to move down the road. Would someone jump out and attack her? Dacey hoped not, she was still recovering and doubted that she would be successful if she was attacked. Taking a deep breath, she looked toward the forest that surrounded her that grew a lot sparser as she continued to move through the region. It would take a while before she could get to the Reach, she wondered if it would be a moons turn before she arrived.

Her horse was fit, which she was grateful for as she wanted to keep a steady pace to make sure she got to Highgarden soon. She did not want to waste any time, but she would need to rest every few hours or so to make sure that she did not tired out. Her injury, although somewhat healed, still bothered her and she had noticed the scar the other day. It was awful, but did not have stitches that she needed to pull out nor was it gaping. It was smooth, pink and raised on her abdomen.

Releasing one hand from the reins, she pressed her hand to her abdomen. The scar ran diagonally, beginning an inch or so beneath her breasts and was about fifteen centimetres long. The scar ended above the belly button, but was an inch or so away from the belly button. She could feel the bump of the scar on her abdomen and took a deep breath. The memory flashed through her mind and she gritted her teeth, wishing she could head to the Twins and take down the man who had killed her, driving his long axe into her.

Hardening herself, she tried not to think of the memories and how awful it had been to lay their dying. Her blood had leaked out slowly, it had not rushed out as it had for Lady Catelyn. The wedding had been a horror, it had been filled with betrayal and had shown Robb Stark that he was not as powerful as he had wanted to be. She then wondered about Lord Edmure Tully, who had been married to Lady Roslin Frey and had not been a part of the murder. If so, he would have murdered his nephew and his sister, or been murdered along with them.

Revenge was on her mind most of the time, but she had no way of extracting that revenge. She had no army to back her up, no allies who would help her in getting her revenge on the Lannisters and the Freys. With the North in the hands of the Boltons, most likely, many of the Northerners who had survived would return North to hide themselves in their keeps. So there was no chance for her to get any sort of revenge, she had to listen to the Gods and hoped they would lead her to revenge.


	6. VI

**Ok so someone mentioned that if I aged them by summers it doesn't quite work because weather in Westeros is different to ours - and you're right, I'll get around to changing that sometime but thank you for reminding me.**

 **Also someone also mentioned they would not be pleased if Aegon, Daenerys or Jon was placed on the throne. That got me thinking, if you could have any character which character would you place on the Iron Throne? I mean I have a general idea of where this story is going and who is going to be on the throne.**

 **But you know, let me know what you think. Once again I appreciate the support for this story, it means a lot.**

* * *

 **VI**

 **WILLAS**

 **THE** day Margaery left for King's Landing, his heart grew heavy. Garlan and Loras went with them, his father and his mother also went. His grandmother lagged behind, studying him carefully before embracing him and following the other ladies to one of the carriages. He was left alone, leaning against his walking stick as he watched his family leave. Once they had been out of sight, he had turned quickly to head back up to Highgarden and into his small office. There he sat down and looked down at his letters that had arrived that morning, the ones he had put off reading.

The first was a letter from one of the other lords in the Reach, asking Willas for information on the next group of horses he would be breeding. Willas quickly wrote back a reply, he had planned to breed more horses in the coming year. He then passed the letter off to the side, he would send it off a little while later once he had read all his other letters. The next he picked up he could not help but let a grin cross his face when he read over the front and took in the familiar handwriting.

 _Willas,_

 _I offer my condolences that your sister is to marry the Lannister shit._

He chuckled at the first sentence that had been sent to him.

 _I think your father is foolish, but we should not be surprised, should we? Your father has always been a foolish man, it is an amazing thing that you received any sort of intelligence. Perhaps that should all be a compliment to your grandmother, at least she saw fit to teach you all something. I write to you to inform you that I am doing well, as is Ellaria, and suggest for you to come visit us in Dorne._

 _You are alone in the Reach, correct? Perhaps it is important that you come visit us, you would love Dorne. It is a marvellous place, and I promise to keep you away from my niece. Consider it, there will be no one to protest your visit._

 _But there is still much we can speak on. It is unfortunate that your sister cannot be married to one of my nephews, instead we have a Lannister for Prince Trystane. Perhaps you should consider a Dornish wife, I promise once you have a Dornish woman you would not be able to go back to your delicate ladies._

 _A Dornish wife would suit you, she would not recoil at your limp or think you half a man. So, I urge you to come to Dorne and visit with us – it seems rather lonely for you to be in Highgarden all by yourself. And Ellaria does wish to see you again, she says you were a sweet boy when she saw you last and wishes to know if you will blush as prettily as you did so long ago…_

The letter turned to scandalous offers from his friend, Willas had to lower the letter and roll his eyes. He then proceeded to pick up the last letter, gripping it in his hands tightly as he noticed it was unfamiliar handwriting on the front. Curious, he opened the letter and wondered who it could be from. An offer of marriage? Perhaps. He was glad his mother was not in Highgarden, if she heard of a marriage offer she would likely attempt to enforce the marriage. How his mother wanted him married, but he was not yet prepared for a marriage.

Once Margaery was married, perhaps he could think of his own marriage.

 _Lord Willas Tyrell,_

 _I write to you and I apologise for my shaky writing, and perhaps for the ink splatters. I write to you in a tavern, it was a lot to ensure this letter would be sent to you. I thought of warning you, that is why I write this letter, instead of showing up at the gates unannounced. I do not know how you would react to this letter, I can only hope that you are a smart man who will not immediately arrest me upon my arrival._

 _You must understand it is important that we work together._

 _The Old Gods have made it clear to me that I must come to Highgarden. I have heard news of your sister's marriage to the King and I send apologies._

Willas lowered the letter with a frown. The Old Gods? Who was this person? The writing was unfamiliar and messy, harsh with ink splatters and it grew smaller as it got to the end of the page. The writer spoke of them working together, how it was important that the two of them headed for Dorne. He glanced at the bottom of the page, pausing.

 _Lady Dacey Mormont._

That was odd, he could have sworn she had been slaughtered along with the Young Wolf at the Red Wedding. She was supposed to be his enemy, he could very well send a letter to his men that if she were to arrive she would be killed. But something within him urged him not to. The Old Gods? And House Mormont's seal was a bear, it would only make sense she was who he was waiting for.

And to go to Dorne.

Well, he already had an invitation to head to Dorne? He would not have the woman killed, he would become her ally.

He continued to read over the letter, taking in the information she had written. She was currently in Lannisport, still a while away before she came to Highgarden. But he did not follow the Old Gods, he barely even followed the Faith of the Seven. Rising from his seat, he decided to shove the letter into the pocket of his jacket and headed around the desk. He then proceeded to open the door to his office, his thoughts still on Dacey Mormont as he gripped tightly to his cane and continued to walk down the hall.

Perhaps it was what the Gods wanted, though he did not particularly believe in them he did believe things happened for a reason. He pressed his lips together as he continued down the hall. Most of his family had gone to King's Landing, with his sister so he was left in Highgarden. How he was grateful they had not insisted he come with them to King's Landing, he could not stomach the city though he had only gone briefly as a boy. It was good they could surpass King's Landing to go to Dorne, he would just need to agree to go to Dorne.

"Lord Willas," Willas stopped what he was doing at the sound of the voice Igon Vyrwel, Captain of the Guard.

"Ser Igon," Willas turned slowly, as he stared at the captain. "Is there an issue?"

"I only came to talk with you," the captain said. "But I do have news."

"Is it urgent?" Willas asked as he pressed his lips together.

"I am afraid it is one of your hounds," Igon answered. "The little Viola," Willas's brows rose. "I am afraid she has eaten one of the poisonous plants and the keeper does not think she will make it through the night."

"Oh," Willas nodded his head. "I will head down to the hounds now. Is there any other news?"

"No," Igon shook his head. "Only your mother asked me to watch over you."

Willas could not help but roll his eyes, "Of course she would. And what did my grandmother put you up to?"

"Your grandmother?" Igon was a terrible liar as he looked quickly. "I do not know what you mean, my Lord."

"Of course, you do not know," Willas shook his head. His grandmother felt the need to protect him, always. It was stifling, he was a grown man.

"My Lord," Igon said as they walked. "Your grandmother did not put me up to anything."

"I am sure she did not," Willas did not believe it to be true. His grandmother would urge the servants of Highgarden to look out for him, to make sure that he did not get into any trouble.

"Please, my Lord," Ser Igon said as he followed the lord through the home. "It was just your mother who urged me to care for you."

"If you say so," Lord Willas said as he continued to limp down the stairs.

* * *

They came to the area in which his hounds were permanently placed. The hounds barked happily when he arrived, hounds of all sorts of sizes and shapes bred for certain expertise. The largest breed of the hounds, most like a wolf, came in all sorts of colours from the lightest white to the darkest black. They were bred for hunting, they were pack animals that hunted well in packs. Their thick coats were like that of wolves that hunted further to the North, the Westerlands, the Vale and the Riverlands. Willas was a master breeder, many wanted such hounds as their hunting dogs.

But he had other dogs that were good for hunting, tracking and fighting. Willas was successful in his breeding of his hounds, and they were well sort out throughout Westeros. Except in the North, those cold bastards had their own hounds that were larger. Willas wanted to buy two of them, to breed in the Reach but having a Northern house to agree to such a thing would be like pulling teeth. They would never go for such a thing as they were protective and hellbent on making sure none of their secrets were revealed to the South.

Damn isolationists.

"Lord Willas," his Hound Master, Gaten, stood from where he was crouching with a few other men beside Viola.

"How is she?" Willas asked as he moved closer to peer down at the small, brown hound that was foaming at the mouth.

"We do not know if she is going to make it," Gaten admitted sadly. "She does not seem to be getting any better."

His heart was heavy as he gazed down at the pup with bloodshot eyes. "If she does not get any better we will have to put her out of her misery, unfortunately."

"Yes, it is rather unfortunate," Gaten said as he rose, nodding to his men. "Do you want it done now, my Lord?"

"Not now," Willas peered down at the little pup who still had fight in her eyes. "She may yet pull through the night. If she does not then we will need to put her down," though he did not want to.

"Yes, my Lord," Gaten nodded at his men who suddenly stood and left the two of them hurriedly. "We will do as you ask."

"Good," Willas began to look around the shelters that housed the hounds. "How are the rest of them?"

"Well," Gaten replied and began to follow his lord around the shelters, walking slowly. "I do not believe any of them are causing problems and the training is coming along quite nicely."

"Good," Willas said as he peered into the pen where the newest pups that had been born lay with their mother. "The new pups should be ready for training soon, yes?" He asked as he peered, counting each and every one of them. It was something he did, to make sure that none of them had been stolen as it had been attempted once before.

"Yes," Gaten also stared down at the new pups. "And I do believe their mother is ready for them to leave her."

"Good," they did look bigger, Willas observed as he stared down at the sleeping balls of fur. "Perhaps they will do quite nicely when they are put on auction."

Willas's auctions for his creatures—horses, hawks and hounds—were famous throughout the Reach and most of Westeros. Many came from far and wide to catch a glimpse of his famous creatures and pay a hefty price for one of them. It was how the Tyrells managed to stay so rich, even with the frivolous spending of his mother, father, brothers and sister.

Several of the hounds barked loudly as Willas moved down the kennels. He peered in each of the kennels, nodding at the dogs. Some of them would not bother looking at him, others would bark at him or wag their tails. He did bend down to pat one of the dogs, who barked happily and then turned to move back to their beds. Willas nodded his head slowly, pleased that none of the other hounds looked particularly ill or unhealthy.

"My lord," Gaten said from near the little hound struggling to keep her life. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"No," Willas answered. "But is there anything else you need from me?"

"No," Gaten shook his head. "Tomorrow another carriage will arrive with supplies."

"I know," Willas answered, lips pressed together as he looked around. "I will be there to ensure that the supplies are sent to their specific location. Now, I do not want to hear that the pup has been killed until I can see her in the morning. Do you understand me, Gaten?"

"Yes, my Lord," the man nodded his head quickly. "She will not be killed. You have my word."

"Good," Willas nodded his head, he then gripped the top of his cane and began to move. "Ser Igon," he said to the man as they continued to move back toward the keep. "I will not have you ignore your duties to watch over me closely, do you understand?"

"Of course, my Lord," the man shifted. "My duties will not be neglected."

"Now I will not mind if you were to simply lie to my grandmother," Willas waved his free hand. "You do not need to watch my movements every moment of the day. Do you understand me, Ser Igon?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good," Willas nodded his head as he continued to limp quickly toward the keep. He could not have Ser Igon reporting back to his grandmother that a traitor was under his roof. He needed to hear from Dacey Mormont's mouth why she had searched for him and most importantly, what she wanted him to do. The wind picked up around them, bringing a slight chill that had him shivering. The cold never reached so far south and it was rather odd, but he soldiered through it.

Once inside the keep, however, Willas ordered a fire to be lit inside his office. The servants had looked at him oddly, but he was still feeling cold and there was a dreaded ball curled within his stomach. He clenched his hand into a fist as he leaned down and removed the brace from his leg, gritting his teeth as he let it lean against the leg of the desk. The brace helped to keep his leg straight, he rarely took it off unless he was sleeping. But his leg needed rest, it was aching strangely.

He rubbed the thigh of his injured leg, attempting a massage that would only be better if he had a Maester to administer soothing, healing oils onto his leg and massage them in. But he did not want to call for the Maester, so he would suffer through his pain. He was a grown man, he did not need to go running when there was the slightest ache. Even though his mother and grandmother would insist he get help, he could almost imagine them berating him as he sat there suffering through the aches within his leg.

But still, he would not call.

Reaching for the decanter, he also grasped a goblet with his free hand and poured himself some wine. Willas was not one to drink often, in fact he found that he did not like the way it diluted his senses. But the alcohol would numb the pain in his leg for perhaps a short while, and it would allow him to get some sort of work done. He lifted up the papers his father constantly ignored, and almost choked in the wine he was sipping. That was the amount they were spending, to wed Margaery to Joffrey Baratheon?

It was an inconceivable amount, and he was sure the Lannisters would be able to afford such a wedding. But it appeared that his family would be paying for most of the wedding, that made him angry. While they were nearer to the Lannisters in their funds, it was not as if they had a bottomless pit of coin to spend. All of coin spent on the wedding would go to the pockets of the Lannisters, not the Crown who needed the money the most. Willas clenched his hands into fists, wishing he could have taken charge of the wedding rather than his father.

"Oaf of a man," Willas could not help but curse his father, in the way his grandmother would. He shook his head, running his fingers through his dark brown hair and staring down at the numbers. They would need to be better with their money, he would likely need to take charge as he could not trust his father in the way he spent. His mother was more frugal, but not by much as she believed Margaery needed the prettiest new dresses made of the most expensive materials from Essos.

When Margaery's husband could buy such luxuries for her.

He reached down and grasped his brace, pulling up the leg of his trouser to latch it back on from his knee to his ankle. He then covered it with his trousers and pushed himself to his feet. Reaching over, he grasped his cane in his hand and gritted his teeth, moving away from the desk and to the door. He had things to do, which he needed to get done as soon as possible. Dacey Mormont was coming, and he gathered that with her a storm would arrive and his life would change drastically.

He wished to be prepared for the change.

* * *

In the dark night, Willas heard whispers and he looked toward his open window. What were the whispers saying? He could not quite hear them, but they were still there underneath the window. Standing slowly, he grasped his cane that was leaning against his bedside table. He limped toward the window, placing his free hand on the sill as he leaned out the window. He lived in one of the towers that overlooked the gardens, and the weirwood trees that could be seen clearly from his window. But as he peered out into the starry night sky, the whispers grew louder.

" _Bear… Rose… Sun… Star…"_

The whispers seemed to chant and Willas frowned, scrunching up his face as he gazed out at the weirwood trees. Were the Old Gods speaking to him? Part of him wanted to reject the suggestion, as he would if someone else had told him the Old Gods were speaking to them. He could not deny it, however, as the whispers seemed to grow louder and something seemed to caress his ear. Willas shivered as he curled his fingers around the window sill, pressing his nails into it even deeper.

"What do you want from me?" Willas found himself challenging the Gods of the North. He held no fear.

" _Bear… Rose… Sun… Star…"_ the Old Gods seemed to chant, not bothering with answering him.

"I want you to answer me," Willas finally said as he stared out at the weirwood trees. "I will not turn the Bear away. I know she is coming for me. But what do you want from us?"

" _King…"_

King was a vague thing to say. "Joffrey Baratheon?"

" _False… King…"_

That gave Willas no more answers. He found himself growing frustrated, so he turned to shut his window roughly and drew his curtains across. Limping toward his bed, he sat down on the edge and placed the cane down against his bedside table and he looked throughout the room. Candles allowed light within the room, but some of the candles were beginning to dim. Willas bit down on his bottom lip and groaned, lifting his leg onto the bed.

He then leaned over to the side of the bed, grasping some parchment and a quill of his own creation. The creation was something that had taken him a while to make. But he found putting ink inside of a small, cylinder shape object. A quill tip was stuck to the end, and precious metal was placed on the other end. The ink inside helped him write a lot quicker, it also allowed him to not use up so much ink. The letter would be going to his grandmother, he would ask her for advice even though he did not know how exactly she would take him hearing from the Old Gods.

 _Dear Grandmother,_

 _I have much to discuss with you, but I am unsure how to begin. It does not sound possible, I do know that I would be unlikely to believe such a thing if someone else was to come to me with this._

 _So I am unsure of your opinion. But I must tell you._

He paused, did he sound insane? It was likely, he was sure that his grandmother would send someone to check up on him. He was hearing voices and speaking to trees, it was something unbelievable but he could no longer deny it. Everything about it was real. He was tempted to scrunch up the letter, but he needed to write down his thoughts – even if he did not send the letter.

 _The Gods are speaking to me, not the Faith of the Seven but the Old Gods – the Gods of the Northerners. I can almost imagine your disappointment, your frustration within me and your desperation for me to understand that they are not the true gods. But it is true, they are speaking to me and I can no longer deny it even if I wished to. There is something I must do, it is something that they are asking of me and I cannot deny it. So I will go, I will do as they ask._

In his frustration, Willas scrunched the letter up and threw the parchment at the wall. He shook his head, sliding down further into his silk sheets and placing his head upon the pillow. He turned his back to his closed window, though he felt there were eyes on him and he tensed up. Why did the Old Gods not just leave him alone? He was going to follow them, he was going to listen to their advice and he would find the Sun and the Star with Dacey Mormont.

"What more do you want from me?" He found himself rolling onto his back, smacking his hands on his bed impatiently.

" _Lord Willas…"_ the voice was more distinct, and he found himself frowning. He stared up at his dark ceiling above him. _"You are needed… place the rightful King… Westeros saved…"_

He shook his head. "Westeros needs to be saved?" Well, he knew that Joffrey Baratheon would not be the best King for Westeros. He was a bastard, the product of incest. The rightful King? Did that mean Stannis Baratheon? He was unsure, but there were not many who could take the throne, not many who had the strength for it.

Robb Stark was dead, so he could not be King.

The Old Gods seemed to specify a king, so it could not be Daenerys Targaryen who was across the Narrow Sea. He did not know what the girl was up to, he did not keep up with her as his grandmother did as he doubted that she would ever be able to make her way to Westeros. Willas rested his hands on his abdomen as he tried to piece together who they wanted to place on top of the throne.

The Iron Throne – a monster of a throne that placed too much responsibility on one's shoulders.


	7. VII

**I need to apologise for the lack of updates since November. I went on a five week holiday and I have been focusing on trying to get a job so I just put off updating for a while.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes in the chapters, thank you for the reviews and for reading this fanfic. I really appreciate the support that I have been given for this story.**

 **So enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **VII**

 **ARIANNE**

 **ROLLING** over to the opposite side of the bed, Arianne frowned when she hit a warm body. That was not her plan, that was not what she wanted. Pushing herself up, she looked over to the person who was lying down beside her and found some relief that it was Tyene lying beside her rather than a man. Still, Arianne did not like sharing her bed with anybody. She preferred to be sprawled across it, with the ability to move and not have someone attached to her. It was what bothered her about men, who wanted to cuddle her after they had sex.

That was not what she wanted.

"Tyene," Arianne hissed as she reached across, shoving at her cousin. Tyene did not move. Rolling her eyes, Arianne pulled off the sheets to reveal Tyene's body in a night dress.

Which was considerate as usually her cousin slept in the nude.

Rising her arm, Arianne brought her hand down right onto the ass of her cousin. It was a loud smacking sound, a harsh crack that echoed through the room. Immediately Tyene shot up, reaching over to grasp her ass as she let out a loud cry and turned over to look at her cousin. Through teary blue eyes, she stared up at Arianne who was hissing, shaking her hand back and forth to get rid of the throbbing pain that was now in her hand.

"Arianne," Tyene complained. "Why would you do that? It hurts!"

"Why did you sneak into my bed?" Arianne demanded, glowering at her. "Your chambers are further down the hall."

"I was tired and wanted to speak with you, but you were sound asleep," Tyene was still rubbing her ass. "I did not think you would mind. But obviously you did."

"And I thought you were into getting your ass smacked," Arianne raised a brow. "But I see you cannot take it."

Tyene pushed her blonde hair away from her eyes and rolled them. "I am not often woken up to someone smacking my ass, but do it again," she wiggled it.

"Get out," Arianne could not help but laugh. She reached over and grasped one of her pillows, bringing it over her head only to smack it down on her cousin.

"I am going!" Tyene squealed as she quickly slipped from the bed. "Do you want this?" She asked as she motioned to the night dress that was almost see-through. Arianne often used it when she invited a man to her chambers who was unsure whether or not he wished to be seduced by her.

"You can keep it," Arianne waved her hand at her cousin. "I do not think I want it now that it has been on the body of a whore."

"A whore!" Tyene snorted, "It is not as if you can talk cousin! Still trying to seduce Ser Arys? I would think the rejection would be getting to you by now."

Arianne glowered at her cousin. "Get out!" The rejection was getting to her, it was badly bruising her ego and she spent most of her time attempting to seduce the knight. He did not appear interested, he ignored her attempts and did not once look at her breasts when she almost, accidentally, exposed them in front of him. He seemed immune to her charms, and it was bad. It was starting to make her feel unwanted, and it was bothersome.

Soon after her cousin had left the room laughing, Arianne's maids entered. "Your bath has been drawn, Princess," one of the maids said, curtsying as Arianne turned to them.

"Thank you, Bela," she said to the young woman. "I think I will wear one of my blue gowns today. The more skin showing, the better."

"If that is your request," Bela turned to the two young women behind her. The two of them nodded, hurrying into Arianne's wardrobe to collect the dress she had requested.

She then went into the adjoining bathing chambers where a steaming bath was prepared in the deep tub. Arianne dropped her night dress and moaned as she sank into the bath. It was there where she began to scrub herself, reaching over to bath herself in essential oils and run them through her hair. She relaxed against the side of the bath, a smile on her face as she looked toward the open window that allowed her to look out at the sea that lapped against the shore of Sunspear and the dock with the ships that gathered.

"Princess," Bela said, and Arianne turned her head. "Is this dress acceptable?"

It was less of a dress, more a scrap of silk. "Perfect," she could not help but smirk. She was on a mission to seduce Arys Oakheart, and she would get him with that dress and her own seduction skills.

Once her bathing was done, she was dried and then her hair was placed up in a towel. She stepped into the dress and smirked at herself when she saw herself in the glass screen. The dress really was a scrap, that showed off most of her breasts and most of her legs. It also revealed her back, only with gold chains hanging down to keep the material together. If she did not manage to seduce the man in such a dress, she doubted that he would even be interested in women.

Her hair was dried and styled, her dark inky curls hanging down. Only half of her hair was hung up, pinned back and she leaned forward to draw a line of kohl around her eyes. She even made sure her lips were plumper by placing a sticky oil substance on them.

"Is this acceptable enough to seduce a man?" She asked as she turned around to face her maids.

"The man would be a fool not to give in to you, Princess," one of the young women complimented, cheeks flushing as her eyes strayed for too long on the Princess's bosom.

"I am afraid he is very much a fool," Arianne muttered as she stared at herself. Then she turned, headed out the bathing chambers and back into her own chambers where she slid her feet into some sandals and headed toward the door. "We are finished here, yes?" She asked, turning to face the maids as she stood by the door.

"Yes, Princess," Bela nodded.

"Good," Arianne rolled back her shoulders. "Because I must see a man about… something," she muttered and, in her determination, left her chambers in an effort to find Ser Arys and finally seduce him.

"Sister," Trystane's voice cried and she stopped as soon as she came to the dining hall. He was smiling at her. She was not particularly close with any of her brothers, choosing to spend more of her time with her cousins. But her brother seemed genuinely relieved and excited to see her. That had Princess Arianne pausing, gazing at her brother as he stared at her.

Beside him Princess Myrcella sat dutifully, shoulders back with her hands on her lap. Her golden curls were left loose in a Dornish style. She was very beautiful, Arianne thought as she strode closer to the table and placed her hands on the back of a chair. But Princess Myrcella Baratheon was not the one she was interested in, she wanted the Princess's knight who appeared nowhere to be seen. That left her feeling disappointed, but she had to eat so she pulled back her seat and sat down slowly.

"Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Trystane?" She asked as she poured herself some wine and looked at her brother.

"A letter arrived from Father," Trystane nodded. "It is addressed to you."

"Oh, good," she replied quietly. "A letter from Father, I wonder what he demands of me this time?"

Silence fell over the table. It was a rather awkward silence as Trystane loved their father and did not understand why she hated him so. Princess Myrcella was naturally quiet and did not give her opinions, she was raised to be a proper lady and Arianne found it boring. She wished the girl had some sort of personality – to throw a tantrum, have an attitude or to at least do something. But for some reason she did not, she was perfectly content, and it made Princess Arianne incredibly uncomfortable around the girl.

"Are you not going to read it?" Trystane asked as he noticed his sister placed the letter underneath her plate.

"I will read it later," she answered. "Did he write you a letter?"

"No," Trystane shook his head. "But he does not need to write me a letter."

"Of course not," Arianne pressed her lips together. "Why do you not show Princess Myrcella the beach today? I am sure she will love it."

"Of course," Trystane grinned. "But we must wait for Ser Arys and my guards, they are sparring down at the training ground with Obara and Nymeria."

"Are they?" A glint appeared and Arianne's eyes. She rose from her seat, "Excuse me."

* * *

The humidity seemed to rise as Arianne made her way outside and down the steps of the keep. Her guards followed her closely, as did her ladies as she made her way toward where the men and women trained. The sound of metal was exciting as she rounded the corner and let her lips part as she gazed upon Ser Arys sparring her two cousins. The two of them were going hard on him, who must have been sweating under that heavy, hot armour. It had to be cumbersome.

"Princess Arianne," one of the soldiers nodded at her when he noticed her presence. "Have you come to join us?"

"No," she smiled. "You and I both know my talents do not lie in weaponry." She smiled as her eyes trailed over him. "How is the knight doing?"

"Rather well," the soldier let his eyes roam inappropriately over his princess. "But I do believe Obara and Nymeria are going easy on him."

"Yes, they are," she could see that as the two of them danced away from his attempts. They were trying to tire him out, then they would go in for the killing blow.

"Princess Arianne!" A rather cheery voice came from behind her and Arianne turned her head quickly, gazing at the man who was coming toward her.

"Ser Daemon," she blinked at him in surprise. "You have returned from Godsgrace."

"Yes, I am to meet with your uncle," Daemon rolled back his shoulders. "I am to be one of his companions to attend the wedding of Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell."

Arianne rose her eyebrows, "That has gone through? That is rather surprising, I had not thought such a thing would occur."

"Those Tyrells are an ambitious lot, according to my father," Daemon grinned at her. He then reached out, touching her cheek briefly and she closed her eyes in the comfort it brought her. "It seems such a shame that I will miss out on watching you attempt to seduce the big oaf."

Arianne opened her eyes and grinned up at her friend and long-time lover. "I am sure you will have much more fun with my uncle in King's Landing. Part of me wishes I could go, but I know that Uncle and Father would never allow such a thing."

"You are much too hot tempered," Daemon agreed. "You would say the wrong thing and be killed. You do not want to end up like Lord Eddard Stark, Arianne, you are much too beautiful."

"And my father is much too old and crippled to wage war," she agreed as she nodded her head. She gazed up at her friend, "Do try to seduce Queen Cersei, Daemon, that would greatly amuse me."

"I do not believe she would want to lay with a dirty, Dornish bastard," he sneered. "But I will try to the best of my abilities, for you, my Princess."

Suddenly she grasped his hand that he slipped away, and she pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Visit my chambers before you leave," she requested.

"If you insist," he smirked at her but then nodded to Ser Arys Oakheart. "But I would be careful with your flirtations, Princess. If you are not careful Ser Arys will not want to lay with you if you continue to flirt with others."

"Perhaps," she then frowned. "But I do not want to change who I am."

"Then how do you expect to seduce him?"

"He will give in to me, eventually," but she sounded much more unsure of herself.

Silence fell over the two of them and she looked over to Ser Arys Oakheart who was thrown onto his back. Obara was pointing a spear at his privates and Nymeria was laughing, her head thrown back as she held her stomach. Her older cousin nodded, moving away from the man who huffed and pushed himself to his feet. He nodded at the two women, offering them his hand which they both rejected. The two Sand Snakes turned, heading away from Ser Arys pushed his fingers through his hair and turned his head.

He stared right at Arianne who could not help but smirk at him. The man straightened his shoulders and turned from her quickly.

"If I did not know any better I would say you are affecting him, Princess," Daemon said from beside her, observing Ser Arys who was hurrying away.

"I would have to agree," she smirked. "I do believe it is not going to be so difficult."

"I wish you luck," Daemon came to rest his hand on her shoulder. "I would recommend you head after him. He's riled up, perhaps he'll take you against the wall in the armoury."

Arianne shivered, "Do not tease me, Daemon."

The two of them left each other, Arianne following after Ser Arys and Daemon heading off somewhere else. Arianne made sure to keep her movements quick, until she got to the armoury and watched as Ser Arys removed his armour. She leaned against one of the wall, arms crossed over her chest to make her breasts pop out more. She smirked, watching as his bare back was removed. It excited her as he was large and strong, much larger than her short frame.

"Ser Arys," she purred.

He turned to her quickly, dropping his armour to the ground with a clang. "Princess Arianne," he cleared his throat. "Do you need help?"

"I do need help," she said as she strode forward, closer to him with her hips swaying. "I was hoping that you would help me."

"Of course, anything," his cheeks were colouring as he kept his eyes on her eyes. "Please allow me to dress and I will help you."

"You do not require clothes," she said as she came even closer to him. He backed up away from her, "In fact, if you do not wear any I would prefer that."

"P-Princess," Ser Arys Oakheart stepped back suddenly, blinking at her rapidly.

"Ser Arys," she moved even closer. "You cannot possibly believe that this was not what I came for. I have been pursuing you in such a way that _must_ have become obvious to you."

"Princess..." the knight shook his head quickly, "This is entirely inappropriate."

"It is not inappropriate," she assured him with a smirk, moving even closer. She did not touch his body, but she noticed how tense he was, and he was moving to back up against the back of the wall.

"Y-yes," he gasped out as he stared at her. "You should not be speaking to me in such a way. You are a princess and deserve much better."

"Do not speak to me on what I deserve, Ser Arys," she rolled her eyes. "You are what I want."

"This is entirely inappropriate," he gasped out, shock in his system as he attempted to turn away from her.

"But it is not," she urged him. "There is nothing wrong with what you are feeling," Arianne finally placed her hand on his arm and he flinched, jerking back from her and leaving her hand dangling in the air.

"Excuse me," he said suddenly, shoving passed her. Arianna stumbled as the man hastened out of the armoury and she stared at him.

"I cannot believe…" she whispered as she stared at the open door.

"Arianne," someone said, and she turned to look at Obara who was smirking, arms crossed over her chest. "I guess your plan is not going well."

"Quiet," Arianne snapped. "I thought it would work."

"Your seduction needs to be a lot better," Obara shrugged her shoulders. "Because you are not going to get him in the typical way, Princess Arianne." Obara's voice was mocking and it bothered Arianne.

She scowled at her cousin, turning suddenly to head out of the armoury. The embarrassment was awful, her hands shook as she headed away from the armoury and back to the keep. The sun was hot in her back and her body was hotter, she would need Daemon in the night as he would be able to get rid of her pent-up energy that had come from being rejected by Ser Arys. She wished the large knight would forget their difference in status and his vows, that he would take her.

But he was too weak to do so.

Once she got inside the keep, she ordered for wine and she went to stand on the balcony. There she spotted Princess Myrcella Baratheon and her brother Trystane playing together. The two of them were laughing happily, Myrcella squealing as Trystane splashed water at her from the fountain. It made Arianne feel worse, she clenched her hands tight around the railing of the balcony as she stared down at the two of them. It was not a good thing in her opinion, that Myrcella and Trystane were together, a Lannister had no place in Dorne.

* * *

"Princess Arianne! Princess Arianne!" Someone cried loudly, and she frowned, turning over to look at the person running frantically toward her.

"Is there an issue?" She demanded of the stout, balding man in front of her who seemed to be having an attack of some sort.

"It appears a letter was lost," the man said, breathing frantically. "Lady Allyria Dayne has arrived on the shores of Sunspear and she is coming this way!"

"Lady Allyria Dayne?" That was curious, Arianne's brows rose. The girl had not left Starfall in all her years, she had been keeping it safe for her nephew.

"Yes!" The man cried, "The letter must have been lost but she claims your cousin insisted she come here!"

"My cousin? Which one?"

"Sarella!" The man sobbed as he reached up to cover his eyes with his hands. "Many apologies, Princess. We have not prepared a space for her and you did not know she was arriving."

"I do not mind," she waved her hand. "I admit I am rather curious about her arrival. Send her to me as soon as she is washed up from her trip, I would very much like a chance to get to know her."

The man looked as if he wanted to be swallowed up by the ground beneath him. But he quickly nodded and turned, hurrying away from Princess Arianne who left to find her cousins. It was the least she could to have them with her, but she would also need to have her brother and his betrothed with her. Straightening her shoulders back, Arianne went on the hunt for servants who would collect all the people she asked for. She then headed to one of the large parlour rooms where she would meet with Lady Allyria Dayne.

"Why did you demand my presence?" Tyene asked as soon as she moved into the room, stopping to pour herself some wine and then seating herself across from her cousin.

"Because," Arianne looked up as her brother, Princess Myrcella, Obara and Nymeria filed into the room. "Lady Allyria Dayne has arrived in Sunspear."

"And that requires us…?" Nymeria motioned to herself and her sisters, her brows raised.

"Because Sarella apparently urged the girl to come," Arianne leaned forward to pull off a grape and pop it in her mouth.

"Sarella went to Starfall?" Obara snorted, "She said nothing of the sort to us, or even to Father."

"I would like you all to be here when I greet her," she looked straight to her brother. "You must be here to greet new arrivals to Sunspear."

"I know this," he answered her quietly. "I would like to meet Lady Allyria."

"Good," Arianne placed her hands together. "We will all make her feel welcome."

"Of course, when do we ever make someone feel unwelcome?" Tyene asked suddenly, stretching out across the lounge she was seated on.

"All the time," came Trystane's smart response and the three older women turned to the young boy.

It was then that laughter broke out among the room. But it was soon broken up by the clearing of a throat, Arianne turned her head to the door way where one of her servants stood. She made no effort to move, she was the Princess of Dorne, after all. She watched as the servant stepped to the side and looked directly at her, before clearing his throat.

"The Lady Allyria Dayne," the man announced and the girl of six and ten stepped into the room.

Appraisal broke out in the room as they took in the girl's appearance. She was very beautiful, Arianne had to commend. Her skin was paler than Arianne's, Trystane's and the Sand Snakes' skin, but it was darker than that of Princess Myrcella. Long black curls fell from her hair and came to a stop at her waist, half of it was braided up with violets placed in her hair. The violets matched the depth of her eyes and the violet colour of her dress that was loose and came to tie up around her neck. She wore little jewellery and she wore no makeup, but she was still a very stunning creature that was appreciated.

"Lady Allyria," Arianne motioned, "Please, come sit."

"Princess Arianne," Lady Allyria stumbled a little as she moved closer to her. "It is an honour to meet you."

"Oh," Arianne said nothing more as she sipped her wine.

Lady Allyria took a seat beside Tyene who smiled at her and introduced herself, "I am Tyene Sand."

"Sarella's sister?" Allyria asked and received a nod, "It is lovely to meet you also."

"Then you must know these are my older sisters, Nymeria and Obara," Tyene motioned to the two who sat beside her. Nymeria sent a sultry smirk that she used to seduce, Obara only nodded.

"And this is Prince Trystane," Arianne motioned to her brother who grinned at the older girl. "And Princess Myrcella."

"Myrcella Baratheon?" Allyria peered at the girl curious, a little surprised. "I did not know that the Princess was sent to Dorne."

"She is betrothed to Prince Trystane," Tyene explained kindly.

"She is to repair the broken relationship between the Lannisters and Dorne," Arianne replied carelessly. She waved her hand but nodded at Myrcella, "I would say that she is doing quite a fine job. Would you agree, Trystane?"

"Yes, sister," the prince turned to look at his betrothed who smiled and blushed.

"What brings you to Sunspear?" Nymeria suddenly pressed Lady Allyria.

"Your sister urged me to consider," Allyria admitted as she rubbed her hands together. "And I must agree, it is rather beautiful here. And she was right, I do not regret the fact that I left Starfall. It was very lonely, I am happy to be able to spend my time here."

"And we are happy to welcome you," Arianne rose to her feet. "Would you like me to show you around the palace?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you Princess Arianne."


	8. VIII

**So this chapter is a bit, eh, for me. I just want to establish Allyria and how she's a bit naive and sweet. I have made her a lot younger than the others, so she will be the kindest out of all of them because she just hasn't seen the world as the others have.**

 **If it's a bit disappointing to you I'm sorry.**

 **But anyway, thank you for reading and supporting my fanfics, it really means a lot.**

* * *

 **VIII**

 **ALLYRIA**

 **SUNSPEAR** was beautiful and Allyria did not regret her decision to leave Starfall to come to the city. She found herself growing fond of the place, it was much warmer than Starfall but there was also a sea breeze that seemed to make the evenings cool. Allyria thought it magnificent, but she could not help but compare it to Starfall. She missed her home and the servants, but she was the one who had insisted on coming to Sunspear. So far everyone had been nothing but lovely to her, and she had managed to strike up somewhat of a friendship with Princess Arianne Martell.

Allyria was not one of her ladies yet, Allyria doubted she would ever become one of her ladies. Princess Arianne did not seem to have an entourage of young ladies that followed her or helped her dress. Instead she had servants to do so, the other young ladies only seemed to be there for when she was bored as a sort of entertainment. Allyria did not want to be a source of entertainment, she wanted the princess to at least respect her and for the two of them to get along and developed a friendship.

"Lady Allyria, what made you come to Sunspear all of a sudden?" Lady Jeyne Fowler asked before taking a sip of her wine and studying Allyria over the rim of the goblet.

"I decided that I should explore Dorne more," she answered honestly. "I cannot be stuck in Starfall waiting for my nephew and betrothed to return."

"Ah," Lady Jeyne nodded her head slowly. "I had forgotten of your betrothal. Surely you have found love by now?"

"We have found an understanding," she grimaced. Why would they have found love? They had been betrothed since she was a child, but he did not write her, and she had only met him once – when he had collected Edric. She could barely remember anything remarkable about him.

"It must be nice to be betrothed," Lady Jeyne's twin sister, Lady Jennelyn, sighed romantically. "It is all I could hope for."

"Betrothal is not awful," Allyria admitted. It did not restrict her in the way that marriage did, all it did was make it impossible for her to flirt with any other men. Not that she would, she was content with waiting until Lord Beric Dondarrion was ready to wed her. Just, she hoped that it was not too far away.

"I can wait to be betrothed," Lady Jeyne muttered as she leaned back in her seat. "I am having far too much fun to be bothered."

"That is where you and I differ," Lady Jennelyn looked down at her sister who was lying on the lounge and sipping her wine. "I do hope Mother is to arrange me a betrothal first, as you refuse."

"I am sure Mother will do what she sees as best," Lady Jeyne curled her nose. "As long as you are not married to a nasty Reachman, I could not imagine!"

The two sisters looked identical. They had golden, flaxen hair that fell to their elbows but was styled differently to tell the two apart. The two of them were rather tall and long limbed, when they were standing Allyria had to look up at the both of them to make sure she met their hazel coloured eyes. While they were rather plain looking, Allyria could say they were beautiful but not in a way that would turn heads as Princess Arianne was. But they had their own merits, and Allyria gathered men must have appreciated looking at the two of them.

"I am sure your mother will choose what is best for you," Allyria attempted to assure the ladies.

"You do not know our mother," Jeyne snorted. "Perhaps she would think what she is doing is best for us, but the daft woman would choose a man perfect for Jennelyn for me!"

"Does she forget you often?" Allyria was curious, what did one do with twins who looked so alike?

"Oh, never," Jennelyn shook her head. "Mother knows us both well. But I do believe that she would do it out of spite, especially if we were to displease her."

"And if we are to be caught with Nymeria again…" Jeyne clicked her tongue. "Mother would ship one of us to the North!"

"What a horrid thought!" Jennelyn exclaimed, shivering. "I could never leave the beautiful heat of Dorne for such an awful, barren place. Could you?" The question was targeted at Allyria who looked up at the woman with wide eyes.

"Well…" Allyria cleared her throat. "I have always been curious of the North. I thought it would be very beautiful, especially with the snow…"

"No!" Jennelyn cried, "Say no more!"

"It is only because you have never left Starfall you would think this way," Lady Jeyne looked at Allyria sympathetically. But it was also a look of a woman who pitied her, who thought Allyria touched in the head.

"Well," Allyria looked over to Princess Arianne who had been watching the exchange with which could only be described as amusement.

"I do agree that being sent to the North would be torturous," Arianne rolled her eyes. "Perhaps it is worse now that House Stark has fallen to ruin. I would not wish such a fate on even a Reachman," she grimaced. "But we must not forget our dear Lady Allyria is already betrothed and will be sent to the Stormlands. I could not imagine a worse place, horrid weather, really."

"I am sure it will not be so bad," Allyria was hopeful. But then, she did not know her betrothed and her imagination had been frantically trying to make up for that fact that she did not know him. What Edric sent her was not enough, as he hardly ever sent her more than a few words on what he was doing as squire to her betrothed. What she had was very little to go on, it left her anxious.

But she would never tell anyone that.

Silence fell over them and Allyria sipped from her goblet of wine, looking over at Princess Myrcella. She was only a girl, so young and unsure of herself. Allyria felt for the young girl who looked so uncertain, sometimes it appeared as if she wanted to say something but kept her mouth shut and would shake her head. It was not an odd group of people, but they all had such different personalities that it either clashed or left a strange, awkward silence which settled over the group.

"Princess Myrcella," Allyria decided to address the young girl, smiling at her in a friendly way. "How are you liking Dorne? Is it so different to King's Landing?"

"It smells nicer," the princess admitted, her cheeks colouring suddenly. "Sunspear is beautiful, I do look forward to seeing the Water Gardens. Prince Trystane has promised me that he will show them."

"That is rather sweet of Prince Trystane," Allyria smiled, she could not help but think that perhaps their marriage would be a happy one. They were both young enough to grow to know each other better, to come to love each other.

Perhaps their marriage would not be so much of a chore.

It was something Allyria worried about personally, she did not know Lord Beric Dondarrion all that well. In fact, she did not know him at all and the little facts she did know about him had come from her nephew. But she found that she hardly knew him, and she dreaded their marriage, what if she came to hate him? Allyria wanted a happy marriage, she could remember her parent's marriage which had been somewhat happy and they had loved each other, or had appeared to love each other.

"He is very kind," Princess Myrcella looked down at her lap, smiling widely.

"He is also rather handsome," Allyria complimented the young man. "Does he take after your father?" Allyria turned to look at Princess Arianne who blinked slowly.

"I am unsure who Prince Trystane takes after," Princess Arianne shrugged her shoulders. "I am afraid I do not pay such close attention to either of my siblings."

"Oh," Allyria blinked slowly. She wished her siblings were still alive, so she could pay close attention to them, even though they would be so much older than herself.

"Do you look very similar to Lady Ashara?" Lady Jeyne asked suddenly and Allyria turned to blink at her. "Or do you take after your brother, the Sword of the Morning?"

"I am afraid I do not know," Allyria admitted. "I do look more like Ashara I suppose. But I would not say I look so similar to her, my sister was rumoured to be a beauty."

"I vaguely remember her," Princess Arianne frowned. "And I would say she was a beauty. But do not put yourself down, Lady Allyria, you are also a beauty."

Allyria smiled at the princess, "Thank you."

* * *

In the gardens of Sunspear, Allyria Dayne found herself gazing at one of the large, red flowers that bloomed on one of the trees. It was a pretty flower, but Allyria stepped back as bees drew closer to the flower. She smiled slightly, turning away from looking at the flower that was blooming and toward Elia Sand. The girl was the fifth Sand Snake, two years Allyria's junior. The two of them came from different backgrounds really, but in the days that Allyria had arrived in Dorne, Elia had arrived not long after her.

And the two of them had become friends.

"What are you here for?" Elia suddenly asked Allyria, hand on her sword that was at her hip.

"Well," Allyria shrugged her shoulders. "I thought it was right for me to do. I have been stuck in Starfall all my life, I wanted to see something more."

"Hm," Elia shrugged her shoulders as they moved through the gardens. "I would like to see more of the Water Gardens or Sunspear. I want to see more of the world, but Father did not want to take me to King's Landing, he only took Mother with him."

"To the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell?" Allyria asked.

"Yes," Elia nodded her head. "I wish I could have gone. I want to see what King's Landing is like." She paused, "But we both know what happened to the last Elia who went to King's Landing."

"But you are not your aunt," Allyria reminded. "I wish I could have gone, but my family was not invited." She shrugged her shoulders, "I would have liked to see King's Landing also."

"Maybe it is best neither of us went," Elia was already taller than Allyria who was older than her. "I cannot imagine we would have so much freedom in King's Landing."

"Perhaps you are right," Allyria shrugged her shoulders. "But it would also be nice to get out of Dorne."

"Hm," Elia was moving through the gardens, Allyria following her. "Your nephew, he is the Lord of Starfall?"

"Yes, but I am his regent while he is away," Allyria smoothed her hands down her dress. "And I must wait for my betrothed."

"You are betrothed?" Elia looked Allyria up and down, "You are a bit young. Not even my cousin is married yet, and she is three and twenty!"

Allyria could not help but snicker, "Princess Arianne has the right to choose her husband. She is the heir to House Nymeros Martell, correct?"

"I do not know," Elia admitted. "I do not really care, I do not pay any sort of attention toward the laws or politics."

"I wish I could do that," Allyria pouted, her shoulders slumping. "It must be nice to have a lack of responsibility."

"As a bastard, you mean?" Elia took joy out of the sudden stress on Allyria's face, her eyes widening as she panicked.

"I did not mean that!" Allyria cried, waving her hands out in front of her.

"I was only joking," Elia snickered, "But I do not think I could be a lady." There was a frown on her face, "It sounds awful. I do not understand how my cousin or Princess Myrcella do it."

"Oh," Allyria pursed her lips. "I do not think there is much difference."

"You have more of a responsibility, a burden," Elia decided to say. "There are no expectations placed on me or any of my siblings," she grinned. "I am very glad to be a Sand, rather than a Martell."

"I think being a Sand would be easier," Allyria admitted as she reached up to rub the back of her neck. "But I would not wish such a responsibility on my cousin. He would be the lone survivor of House Dayne, it would be unfortunate."

"There is nothing you can do," Elia said to the older girl. "Houses die, people die – you cannot stop the will of the Gods."

"I suppose not," Allyria admitted as she looked down at the ground beneath her. "Will you get married?"

"That is an odd question," Elia's dark eyes widened in surprise at Allyria's question.

"You could be legitimised," Allyria suggested. "Then you would be a Martell and could be married. Even now you could be married, you are still valuable."

"I do not like to be thought of as valuable," Elia grimaced to which Allyria opened her mouth to apologise. "Do not apologise," Elia assured her. "But I do not know, I am only four and ten."

"I was betrothed when I was a much younger girl," Allyria confided in Elia. "I was only a girl of one and ten, I had not yet flowered when I was betrothed to Lord Beric Dondarrion."

"Do you remember him?" Elia asked, "Do you know him well?"

"No," Allyria admitted. "I only met him once and I must confess that I hardly remember. He was tall, and I was rather frightened by him," she looked down at her feet. "But we do not write letters to each other, I only ever hear anything from my nephew when he writes. So, I do not know my betrothed."

"Does that not scare you?" Elia appeared horrified, "I could not imagine!"

"It does terrify me," Allyria finally admitted. Her stomach rolled, "I do not know his character. But I trust the judgement of my nephew, he is squiring for him."

"I would like to squire for a lord," Elia mentioned as they continued to walk through the gardens. "However, I doubt I would be so lucky. Even in Dorne, it is acceptable for a woman to wield a blade but not squire for a lord."

"Perhaps you should discuss it with your father?" Allyria suggested, "Maybe he would be able to find you a lord who would be willing to allow you to squire for him?"

"Father will be away for a while now," Elia frowned. "So, I will have to wait to bring it up with him, unfortunately."

 _Allyria…_

There was a whisper in the winds and Allyria turned her head, hair whipping around her face as she looked around.

 _Allyria…_

The whisper caressed her ear and she shivered, reaching up to touch her ear as it tingled.

 _Allyria…_

Continuously, the whisper moved with the wind. It came in and out of her ears, shivers ran up and down her spine. What was the whisper from? It was odd, but it was all she could concentrate on. Her hair blew around her face, the whispers continued, and she felt her stomach drop as her eyes rolled back in her head.

" _This is the Wall…" she whispered, staring out at the vast snow that surrounded them. "This is the highest point of Westeros…"_

" _Yes," a voice replied from behind her and she turned her head._

" _It is much colder than Dorne," she shivered, attempting to pull her coat closer around her shoulders._

" _Here," she felt something warm around her shoulders. It embraced her, keeping her warm from the inside and out."_

" _Thank you, Lord-"_

"Lady Allyria! Lady Allyria!" A voice cried, and she felt hands on her shoulder, who was shaking her violently and her eyes opened quickly.

Allyria gasped, sitting up quickly and wincing. She reached up to touch the back of her head which was aching, she met the eyes of Elia Sand who appeared rather panicked. But there was relief in her eyes as she pushed back against Allyria who almost fell over, having to reach backwards to stop herself from falling. Elia sat herself down on the light-coloured stone that was crunched up and on the ground beneath them.

"What happened to you?" Elia demanded, "You just fell down and would not wake up."

"I do not know," Allyria rubbed her hands together as she sat there.

Silence fell over the two of them and Allyria reached up to touch her face. She still felt warm and her cheeks felt as though she had been blushing. What was that? It made no sense to her at all, her cheeks were so warm it was odd. Pulling her hands away from her face, she looked around the gardens and pushed herself to her feet. Hands shaking and so were her legs, Allyria gulped as she saw Obara Sand striding toward them. The woman was very intimidating and frowned at the two of them, causing Allyria to cower beneath her gaze.

"What are the two of you doing?" Obara's voice was commanding and Allyria straightened, Elia stumbling to her feet.

"I was just showing Lady Allyria some moves Father taught me," Elia was quick to lie. To not reveal the odd situation Allyria had found herself in. "I had not expected her to drop me."

"I did not mean to," Allyria admitted, her voice quiet as she looked down at her feet.

"I am sure," Obara nodded her head tightly. "Both of you should come, there is something Princess Arianne wishes to discuss with Lady Allyria."

* * *

Lady Allyria Dayne stood in front of Princess Arianne Martell who was seated at a desk. "There is something you wished to discuss with me, Princess?" Allyria asked curiously, peering down at the princess.

"Yes," Arianne placed the letter she was reading down before turning to look up at Allyria. "I would like for you to become one of my ladies."

"Oh," Allyria smiled. "I would be honoured, Princess."

"Then it is settled," Princess Arianne pressed her lips together. "But I suspect that is why you came, as this letter here from my cousin, Sarella, confirms such a thing."

"I had hoped," Allyria admitted sheepishly. "I did not want to presume."

"You presumed nothing, you did not even request," Princess Arianne smiled at her. "For that I can respect you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Allyria was feeling rather flustered.

"And I would be a fool not to make you one of my ladies-in-waiting," Princess Arianne shrugged her shoulders. "You have never been to court before and I must teach you how to survive. Your naivety is rather charming, but we must strengthen you because many will be out to eat you alive, and even attempt to seduce you."

"But I am betrothed!"

"But this is Dorne, and you are Dornish," the Princess had a rakish smile develop on her face. Allyria gathered the princess must have learnt such a smile from her uncle, Prince Oberyn Martell. "You must not forget that we are lax with such things."

"But would my betrothed have me?" Allyria sounded panicked, "He is of the Stormlands, he would not understand such a thing."

"And what do you believe your betrothed is doing now?" Princess Arianne rolled her eyes, "I assure you he is not remaining as chaste as you are. It is not their way, but as he is marrying a Dornish lady he must come to understand our way."

Allyria was not too sure, but she would put her faith in her princess. Plus, no one said she had to be seduced. She was sure that she could stop such a thing from occurring.

"Then I choose to trust you," Allyria smiled at Princess Arianne. "I am sure my betrothed will not be too closed minded."

"There will be plenty of others who will wish to marry you if such a thing should occur," Princess Arianne waved her hand and explained herself, "Such as the lord decides he does not wish to marry you any longer."

"I should hope not," Allyria found herself appearing anxious. "I would not wish to damage the relationship my nephew has formed with Lord Dondarrion and with their house."

"But you must consider such a thing," Princess Arianne placed her hands on her hips. "There is still much to be done before your maidenhead is seduced from you."

"I do not believe it will," Allyria admitted stubbornly. "I am sure that I will be able to hold on to it, for my husband."

"Then I admire your tenacity," Princess Arianne complimented smoothly. "I do not have the patience."

"It is not for everyone," Allyria admitted, her cheeks a little flushed from the compliment. "But I have known my duty from when Father declared it from his death bed."

"Oh," Princess Arianne was intrigued. "I did not know this. He met with Lord Beric when he was on bed rest?"

"Yes," Allyria nodded. "He was our only surviving relative. "I was only a girl of one and ten, I could not draw up my own betrothal contract. It had to be done, Father claimed. He wished to see me wed before he died, but I fear he did not last so long after that."

"Why have you not married?" Princess Arianne pried, "It is clear that you have flowered, it would only make sense for you to be wed."

"Yes," Allyria looked down at her hands. "We are to be wed when they have completed their quest."

"Do you know what their quest is?"

"Admittedly, I do not," Allyria shrugged her shoulders. "I have asked my nephew, but his replies are short and never the detail I require. I am afraid I am left without any answers."

"That would bother me most of all," Princess Arianne pursed her lips together. "I fear that I could not live such a way, waiting for a man." She cocked her head to the side, "I do not know how you do it. This is Dorne, Lady Allyria, you are allowed to take charge."

"But I am not meant to," Lady Allyria reminded the princess. "I am the last option if Ned, the Gods have mercy, was to die. I do not believe such a thing, but I have only been trained to run a household as a lady, not as the head of the house."

It made no clear sense to Princess Arianne, Allyria could see that. But Allyria lived in a world where her path had been set from her from the moment she was born. What confused her, however, was the fact that some Gods seemed to be attempting to speak to her. They wanted her to know something, but it confused her, what must she know? And whose Gods? Allyria was rather overwhelmed by such a thing. But he did not bring it up with anyone, she would continue to contemplate the answers on her own at night.

"I will teach you," Princess Arianne suddenly decided. "You should not need to rely on your husband to run the keep." She shook her head, "We should not have to rely on them but for procreation."

Allyria was shocked at the wording of the Princess. "But that is not right," she insisted. "We need the men."

"Yes, for procreation," Princess Arianne rolled her eyes. "But the truth is, Lady Allyria Dayne, that the men need us."

"Truthfully?"

"Yes, how else would they survive?" Princess Arianne was flippant with the question. "Without us they would surely fail. The men _need_ us, whether they like to admit it or not."

"I would never have thought of such a thing," Allyria admitted to her princess.

"Not many do," Princess Arianne leaned back in her seat. "But you do not need to worry, there is still much more that you need to learn."

"Truthfully?"

"Of course," Arianne frowned. "I will make you come to realise there is much more to life than being subservient to men."

"I would appreciate such a thing," Allyria grinned at the princess.


End file.
